A Thirst for Knowledge
by skauble
Summary: Lex realizes that Lana can't help in his quest for Clark's secret. Enter one blonde, one plan, and one hell of a lot of trouble. A Chlex fic.
1. Part One

**Title:** A Thirst for Knowledge

**Rating:** MA

**Content:** Chlex

**Summary:** Set after Lex and Lana's first night together. Lex realizes that Lana is useless in his quest for Clark's secret (besides being annoying). Enter one blond, one plan, and one hell of a lot of trouble.

**Spoilers:** I reserve the right to use whatever isn't completely stomach turning from any season (which leaves so little to work with in recent years).

**Disclaimer:** The characters of Smallville belong to their creators, and those who own the rights to them in any form. I am not one of those people. No infringement is intended, no profit is made. Besides, if they were mine you'd be watching this instead of reading it.

**Author's notes: Please read - **With the exception of taking on Birthday Surprise, I'm not a Chlex writer. My niece roped me into participating in National Novel Writing Month - a challenge in which you try to write a 50,000 word novel in a month. She has the talent and creativity to be a published author so I thought I'd be supportive and give it a shot (sometimes being an aunt sucks). I write in a different fandom, but a friend of mine pointed out that if I tried writing something like this on a subject about which I write normally I'd burn myself out on it. So I thought I'd try a Chlex fic. Here's the catch -

NaNoWriMo is about quantity over quality. So in addition to having no experience writing for this ship, this story is unbetaed and barely edited. I read through it once because they tell you not to bother with a lot of rewrites. So this may, in fact, suck big time.

Also, I missed a lot of Season 5 and I'm not that dedicated to Season 6 (although I keep clogging my DVR with it). And, because this is going to be my only attempt at Chlex I don't see the need for me to torture myself watching all those episodes or reading all of the transcripts in depth as opposed to just skimming them when necessary.

So, to recap – This fic has no beta, little editing, isn't overly burdened by quality, and will remain unfettered by recent canon. **Proceed at your own risk!** :)

* * *

**  
Prologue**

Lex turned his head on his pillow and didn't like what he saw.

Lana Lang.

It wasn't Lana, per se that he didn't like. He just didn't like waking up with her.

On the whole she was a good person. Unlike himself, she never really set out to hurt people. It was simply that Lana Lang had a vast sense of entitlement; one even larger than his own could be at times. There wasn't a situation that arose, a set of circumstances in which she was even a minor part, which she didn't honestly believe was solely about her.

It wasn't a hardness of heart, or even an innate sense of unfeeling selfishness that created this self-oriented outlook on life; it was just that no one had ever indicated to her that reality was contrary to the way she saw it. She would wander into an interaction between others, assume that she was either the genesis of the conflict or the essential piece to it's resolution and, no matter how utterly untrue all involved might know this to be, no one ever said as much to Lana. And so, like a child who was told that the color of the sky was red, and thus innocently assigned that descriptor to all things blue, Lana went about her life blissfully unaware that the earth, in actuality, revolved around the sun and not her; and that sometimes she, like everyone, was merely an observer of events and not the center of them.

And this honest misperception of reality made it somewhat regrettable that he had to hurt her. Lex almost wished that she was evil as opposed to being merely too unobservant and imperceptive to see beyond herself. But, realistically, he could hardly stay with her any longer. For now that he'd actually had her, the obsessive fog that had been clouding his judgment was beginning to lift.

At first the plan had been to use her to learn Clark's secret. But over time, as that goal seemed more and more elusive, the pursuit of Lana had simply turned into a way to best the young man who had once been his closest friend. Although he hated to admit it, even to himself, Clark's continued distrust of him made him feel unworthy; a feeling that had been fostered in him by his father since childhood. In the absence of his faith, Lex had chosen to prove his worth by winning the woman Clark loved.

Unfortunately he'd become so driven that the idea of possessing Lana promised far more than the reality could ever hope to deliver. And now, in the crystal clarity that only the morning after can bring, he understood that there was little validation to be found in winning a battle if it didn't lead to victory in the war.

He had completely lost sight of the objective and the price would be high, indeed. Not only had he lost precious time in this deflection from his original purpose, but now he had to handle a rejected lover. Dealing with Lana could stretch one's patience during the best of times; but coping with Lana Lang when she failed to get her way was the kind of unpleasantness that made him think of a head injury with longing. And the hysterics in which she was sure to indulge would be magnified ten times over because he couldn't even soothe her injured pride by allowing her to be the one to break things off. Although it was true that his mind was clear enough to reset his priorities and, once again, construct a viable means to the end of ascertaining the truth that was so clearly being kept from him; he couldn't help but want to assure this particular victory over Clark, seeing that it had needlessly consumed so much of his time.

With endless gratitude and a deep sense of irony Lex knew that his triumph over Clark in this matter came not in keeping Lana from him, but in returning her to him with all due haste.

Lex had no illusions that he might love Lana Lang and could clearly see that neither did Lana care overly much for him. Indeed, they had both been momentarily drawn together by the need, unacknowledged on Lana's part, to punish Clark. Luckily Lex, having far more experience in the darker aspects of human interactions, realized this first. And so, in the end, it would be he that hurt Clark the most in this skirmish.

And doing so, while sure to be unpleasant in the extreme, would be sinfully simple. He merely had to dump Lana; and he needed to do so quickly. Lana was not a woman who could survive long without a man to lean on. If he allowed Lana the opportunity to recognize the lack of any true feelings between them, then she would waste little time running back into Clark's arms. Lex would then become the unwanted castoff; the pathetic substitute who could never truly measure up to the earnest and upright farm boy.

However, if he was the one to end their pseudo relationship then, when Clark ultimately reunited with his first love, it would be widely acknowledged, although certainly never spoken, that Clark was the man for whom Lana had to settle when Lex rebuffed her.

His mouth twisted in a bitterly satisfied smirk and he didn't even attempt to deny how much that thought satisfied something in him. What didn't please him, however, was the fact that he was back at square one when it came to his original goal – exposing Clark.

Not willing to spend another minute in such close proximity to the proof of his miscalculation, Lex slipped silently out of the bed and made his way to the shower to wash away all evidence of his failure.

As the water sheeted off of his hard form, taking the now cloying scent of Lana with it, he let out a heavy sigh. He began replaying the events of the past year, searching for what he'd missed when he'd chosen Lana as the lynchpin of his plan. With a sinking feeling in his stomach he was forced to one inescapable conclusion – His father had been right.

Although it made him sick to admit, Lionel Luthor had tried, repeatedly, to drill into him that his emotions would always be his Achilles' heel, and the bastard's prediction had been unerringly correct. Of course, since his father was the cause of the emotions that were generally at the root of his more misguided actions, it was hardly surprising that the man could foresee the product of his many abuses and manipulations.

Lex realized that he was doing it again; letting his feelings come between him and cold, hard logic. Focusing on the mystery that was Clark, once more, he was suddenly struck with a heady sense of revelation.

The path to getting to Clark wasn't didn't lie with someone who could learn his secret, but through someone who knew it already.

Chloe Sullivan.

Of course, he wasn't an idiot. He'd toyed with the idea before. When he'd dragged Chloe to the cave he'd believed that she knew something about whatever Clark was hiding. But when he'd retrieved her from the Yukon he'd known for sure. Chloe was, if nothing else, intensely curious, to the point that it regularly compromised her safety. If she'd truly had no idea of how she'd been transported to the wilds of Canada, she would have had an endless stream of questions from which the Prime Minister himself would not have been safe. And instead of refusing Lex's attempts at understanding what had occurred, she would have been enlisting his assistance if for no other reason than access to his near limitless resources. Even her anger at being dragged to the caves in the middle of a meteor shower would have been set aside in her relentless quest for the truth.

But Lex had quickly abandoned that line of thought in favor of a strategy involving Lana. It wasn't out of any particular preference for one girl over the other. When all was said and done, his choice was made for two reasons.

First, he'd been sure that if Clark would take Chloe into his confidence then it was only a matter of days, maybe weeks before he told the woman who had always held more importance in his life than the blonde.

His second rationale had to do with his partnerships with both Lana and Chloe, respectively. In the time he'd spent with both women he'd learned that Lana's myopic view of the world made her easy to mislead and, should the situation call for it, manipulate. Chloe, on the other hand, had an ingrained, benign sense of cynicism that was able to allow for the worst while not necessarily expecting it. It encouraged a clever intuitiveness in her that would have made attempts to maneuver her difficult and productive results questionable. Besides, she'd learned the hard way that Luthors were a law unto themselves.

It had just seemed so much harder to wring the truth from Chloe, who was stubborn to the point of insanity – hers and everyone who care for her; whereas Lana would most certainly feel that any action she took was justified merely by the fact that she was taking it. That type of circular reasoning, the basis for many of her choices, made her easy to influence as she was rarely burdened by the distressing thought that she might be in the wrong.

However, much to his continued surprise, Lana had never been invited to join the little club of which Chloe and the Kents seemed to be the only members. He had, at first, believed that Clark would tell Lana the truth as an extension of their increasingly intimate relationship. When that had not been the case Lex had placed himself as competition for the girl's affections certain that Clark would be forced to confide in her to keep her. Still he had remained silent and let Lana go.

But what had stunned Lex, far more than the breakdown between Lana and Clark, an occurrence as regular as the changing of the seasons, was how well Clark had taken what should have been a debilitating blow that would force him to "come clean" in order to win Lana back. Instead, Clark, although alternately angry and morose, simply picked up and went on.

It might have helped shape his strategy if he'd known exactly what had occurred between the two. Unfortunately, his only source of information was Lana and her version had her alternately as the heartbreaker or the heartbroken depending on the day and whether she was in an empowerment or a pity mood.

But more likely that not, knowing would have done little more than satisfy his curiosity. In fact, with Clark able to move on, the bottom had fallen out of Lex's original plan; another reason that Lex had turned, instead, to hurting Clark when it became clear he couldn't expose him. Lex had never handled failure well.

Of course, the only thing he hated more than failure was stupidity, and in retrospect his had been no small thing. However, he consoled himself with the fact that some of the information he'd needed to see how doomed his plan had been from the beginning came only after this lengthy interaction with Lana.

Lex knew from experience, both as a businessman and a Luthor, that weakness derived directly from need. The more a person needed something or someone, the more important it was to them, the less they could stand to loose it. Exploiting anyone's disadvantage was simply a matter of finding that thing that they most wished to keep in their life, that on which they most heavily relied, and discovering a way to take it from them.

He had assumed that was what Lana was to Clark. Unfortunately he had made an all too common error; he had mistaken desire for necessity. Lex had watched as the couple danced around their feelings for years. But only now was he seeing what, in retrospect, was painfully obvious. The recent, short-lived relationship aside, Clark had never really _had_ Lana. They were like ships that passed in the night…and then ran aground. And although Clark had always longed for the town princess, she wasn't essential to his existence because he'd never owned that much of her.

But Chloe…Clark had always had Chloe. Her faith, her loyalty, her love. Even though she had never enjoyed his. No; Chloe was so deeply entrenched in Clark's life, so much a part of who he was that he simply took it as a given that she'd always be there. Much like a child's view of his parents, Clark simply couldn't conceive of the fact that Chloe wouldn't be there when he needed her.

And he _always_ needed her.

And so Lex had finally uncovered, not Clark's secret, but the next best thing – his vulnerability. Frankly, now that he'd recognized it, he felt unbelievably obtuse for not seeing it before this atrocity with Lana. In everything that Clark was, and most likely everything he would become, Chloe had a hand.

Obviously the blonde helped him maintain his deception; that was a given. But there were other, more subtle ways that she had shaped Clark. While it had been his parents that had provided Clark's core values, it was Chloe who, especially after the departure of Pete Ross, taught Clark about friendship. And, if one wanted to be technical about the matter, any influence that Lana had had over his life was also attributable to Chloe, as the brunette would never have remained in Smallville without her generosity. Hell, the girl's influence was so pervasive that he wouldn't be surprised if Clark didn't end up as a reporter.

Lex's mind wandered for a moment as he wondered what it would be like to be the focus of that kind of devotion. It was simply more fuel on the fire of his ever-growing resentment of Clark Kent and, as Lex couldn't afford for his next endeavor to fail as spectacularly as his last, he tamped down any burgeoning jealousy to focus on what his next step would be.

First, he needed to divest himself of Miss Lang. Then, he would need a full proof cover story. And lastly, he required the one thing for which he would have sworn a Luthor would never have a need –

A reporter.

* * *

** Chapter One**

Crap.

That pretty much summed up Chloe's day. It wasn't that something bad had happened; it was that _every_ bad thing that could possibly occur had happened. And just when her belief in the divine had been restored by the very large cup of coffee placed in front of her, her faith was cruelly torn away as she realized that God did not, in fact, exist. Or he did and he just hated her.

"Hello, Lex."

Reaching out, she snatched up the coffee as if, like a mirage, it might suddenly disappear and took a long, bracing swallow. Even the knowledge that this was clearly a beverage of bribery couldn't stifle her small moan of relief knowing that more caffeine was now rushing down her throat to frolic in her beleaguered system.

She knew that the smart thing to do would be to refuse the coffee, knee the man in the groin, and get the heck out of Dodge before her craptacular day took the kind of hellish downturn that only a Luthor could provide. Instead, she took another mouthful of the hot liquid, knowing that Lex wasn't going to go away until he was good and ready, and that an asshole and coffee was better than just an asshole.

Lex nearly sighed as he sat down across from her. Although the downward turn of her mouth made it clear what she thought of his presumptuous behavior, it was obvious that if he waited for an invitation his plans for Chloe would never get off of the ground.

He knew that there was no room between them for the pleasant attempts at conversations or flowery compliments that would have eased the way with Lana. No; although it pleased him as often as it pained him to admit it, he and Chloe were too much alike for her to believe that he was here for anything other than to further his own agenda. And since she was smart enough to deduce that herself, Lex chose to simply sit there, watching impassively as she finished her coffee.

His strategy paid off and he didn't even attempt to hide his self-satisfied smirk, knowing that Chloe would see through any polite façade he attempted to construct.

"What do you want, Lex?"

Polite might be out of the question but sarcasm was not.

"You wound me, Chloe."

"I'm giving it some thought."

Chloe realized how tense she was becoming as their repartee, which had become increasingly acerbic of late, began to grate on her already frazzled nerves.

"Look, just tell me what you want so I can get to the laughing in your face portion of the evening and then enjoy my previous peace and quiet."

Lex was walking a fine line here. If he gave in too quickly she'd become suspicious, but if he held out to long she'd storm out in a whirl of righteous indignation.

"Chloe, don't you think you're being a little paranoid? Maybe I just saw a familiar face and decided to join you."

"No. Really."

She wasn't sure where he was going with this but he had about thirty seconds to get there.

"Why do you automatically assume that I must want something from you?"

He watched as her face twisted comically and her eyes rolled in a clear disbelief of any sincerity on his part. She was a mixture of irritation and insult as she lifted a hand and began to tick of the reasons for her doubts on her fingers.

"Geez, let's review, shall we?"

"One," a finger flipped up. "You've voluntarily came within ten miles of me."

"Two," another finger rose to join the first. "You came bearing gifts."

"And three," the third digit shot up, "You've been here a whole ten minutes now and have yet to bring up the fact that I'm a hopeless spinster, doomed to live a life devoid of companionship."

Lex barely managed to reign in a wince as she threw that particular conversation back in his face. And he had more than a sneaking suspicion that she knew of his remarks to the young photographer, also. He really wished he could take back those words. Not because it obviously angered her and not because it was untrue, but simply because what had been helpful at the time now made things just that much harder. Yet another reason to regret his machinations with Lana.

Though he did have to admit that, while Chloe did lack in the relationship department, it wasn't because of any deficit of allure on her part as he had implied. Rather much of it was her relationship with Clark – too intimate to be strictly friends and too distant to be lovers – that sent confusing vibes to potential suitors who were probably leery of approaching a girl with baggage in the shape of a large, imposing Kansas farm boy.

Objectively speaking she was really quite appealing. In fact, when she was prying into his business affairs or disrupting those of a more personal nature, he could admit that she was precisely what a lot of men were looking for. Although her history had convinced her otherwise, she was truly lovely. She was also bright, passionate and undeniably loyal. A man who won Chloe's love could be assured that he had all of her; everything she had to give. It was a marked difference between the two women in Clark's life. The time he had spent with Lana had often been quite frustrating as she vacillated between himself and Clark. He could only imagine the blow to his pride that would have been had he been foolish enough to have feelings for the fickle brunette.

Of course, soon Lana wouldn't be an issue for either of them. She was the kind of woman who peaked in high school. She was a big fish in her very small pond, but taken outside of that sheltered environment she would never be able to adapt. She was destined to be the girl that people remembered as opposed to the woman people heard about as time marched on. And, on some level, Lana understood that. That was part of why she was unable to function when not in a relationship; generally one that moved far too fast. She needed to find someone to care for her before the boys around her became men, and being a cheerleader and the school sweetheart held little interest.

By comparison, Chloe was a woman that men tended to appreciate as they matured. He knew that once she began exhibiting the confidence that being away from this small town would give her she would be overwhelmed by men seeking to win her.

And he almost pitied the man who did. No matter how desirable she might be, either now or in the future, Chloe Sullivan was high maintenance. Just keeping her in one piece on a daily basis was probably more than most men could accomplish. Over the years, as he'd gotten to know Chloe, Lex had often viewed Gabe with a slight sense of awe, wondering how on earth the man had survived shepherding the young woman to adulthood.

Although Lex knew that, after romancing a number of women intent on killing him, his glass house left no room for stone throwing at the effort a relationship with Chloe might demand.

"I don't suppose you'd accept a heartfelt apology?"

An embarrassing snort shot from her at the mere thought.

"I might if I believed that you had a heart. But the fact that you'd even entertain the thought tells me that whatever it is that you want is illegal, immoral, or imperiling. Knowing you, my best guess is all of the above."

"We always did understand each other."

Chloe couldn't help but laugh at the mock wistfulness of his statement.

"You're not helping your cause here."

And as suddenly as it had come, the levity of the moment fled and Chloe was once again tired and wary; just wanting to know what was going on so she could figure out how to avoid getting caught up in it.

"Honestly, Lex; what on earth is so important to you that you'd actually lower yourself enough to ask for my help?"

Of all the replies she'd considered, Lex offered her the worst.

"My father."

Everything was perfectly still for a moment as Chloe was transported through time to a day in Lex's study when she'd been the one to ask for his help for this very same reason. And no matter what his agenda had been at the time or what had passed between them since, that meant day something to her that really only the two of them could understand.

Even though it had hurt when Lex had ignored her after everything was said and done, in some ways she had understood; understood it still.

Chloe had once reached into Lex's very soul and compelled him to expose his most hidden desires to the light of day and once the need for them to be together was over his need to not be reminded of his vulnerability must have been strong. In her hands rested the knowledge that Lex was, despite all attempts to deify or demonize him, simply a man, and sometimes - sometimes just a boy who longed for his father's love.

It was one of the reasons that she had forgiven Lex for some of the distance between them. It was also why she kept trying to steer Clark away from his rabid belief that Lex was guilty in all things until proven innocent and more towards not a lot, just a little…a tad…hell, right now she'd settle for just a smidgeon of objectivity. Not that she was in any way anticipating an actual change on the part of her best friend. Clark was a great guy with many fine qualities, but a breadth of scope just was not among them.

In fact, if she thought about it, both of her closest friends shared that characteristic. Clark and Lana were extremely narrow-minded in the way that they filtered information. With a slight frown, Chloe wondered if that was what kept pushing them together or what was always pulling them apart.

And so Clark would never understand the bond that existed between her and Lex, despite their animosity. It wasn't friendship; didn't even think that it was respect. It seemed more like a trauma bond forged between two people who hadn't been merely victims of Lionel Luthor, but of his personal fury. It was why Lex had been so angry with her during the meteor shower and why he'd tried to help her when Gretchen's spirit had overtaken her. And it was why she'd most likely end up helping him now.

Well, that and it would probably make a fantastic story.

But it wouldn't do to just give in. That had never been their way.

"What on earth makes you think I want to get involved in the endless pissing contest between you and Lionel?"

She watched the pull of his lips as a knowing smirk curved them.

"You mean besides the chance at a story that would propel you past a number of rungs at the bottom of the journalistic ladder where you currently reside."

God, she hated it when he got all omniscient. Not that she'd ever admit that she'd been thinking the same thing, and with a chuckle she waved away his reasoning.

"I'm not sure that I need your help with that. I used to think that it was just Smallville, but it must be me, because I seem to run into newsworthy trouble every other day. So I'm not sure that career concerns are going to lure me back into the lion's den. Got anything else?"

Sure, she'd pretty much already decided to help him, but that didn't mean she shouldn't see just what he was willing to offer.

Lex tried not to smile as he watched emotions flit across what he was sure Chloe felt was her poker face. It wasn't that Chloe couldn't lie; she could. She had the inherent ability to fold, spindle, and mutilate the truth that all natural born journalists seemed to possess. But he knew that, for Chloe, a lie was something you told, not something you lived; as such, she could engage in temporary acts of dishonesty when necessary, but the majority of times her feelings spilled across her face for all to see, should they bother to look. Not that her friends were particularly observant. Maybe that's why she seemed to labor under the impression that he couldn't read the decision written in her eyes.

Still, there was a difference between wanting to help and needing to, and he'd come prepared to obligate her to his cause.

"You're caution is admirable, Chloe. It's good to see that something positive came from your previous involvement with my father. That tends to be the bright side to lessons learned the hard way, doesn't it? They seem to stick."

There was an ominous pause, and though she knew that it was a ploy to heighten the tension and lend significance to his next words it was still working.

"I'd hate to see Martha Kent learn the truth of Lionel's nature in the same manner you did."

Although he knew that he'd probably had her compliance before, it was always satisfying to Lex to cement a victory. Mrs. Kent was the mom in "mom and apple pie" and if there was ever an absolute justification for Chloe to dance with the devil once again, this would be it.

"What have you got?

Careful not to gloat, Lex lifted his jacket from the chair next to him and pulled a folder from underneath it. He remained silent as she accepted it from him and tucked it into her bag; she wasn't stupid enough to open it in public. A Luthor, even when not embroiled in some sort of nefarious stratagem, always had eyes everywhere. Of course, he'd defy someone to find a Luthor not occupied in just such dealings.

As she stood to leave he settled back into his chair preparing to wait a while longer so as not to cause more of a spectacle by leaving together then the minor stir they might have created already by merely sitting together.

"I'll be home tonight after 9:00."

She didn't acknowledge his comment but he knew she'd heard; knew she'd be there. Chloe was unpredictable in a lot of ways, but her commitment to those she cared about could be depended upon like the rising of the sun.

Watching through the window as her car pulled away, Lex waved over a waitress for a refill and allowed himself a small smile, enjoying the surge of excitement that came with the start of any new challenge.

* * *

** Chapter Two**

As she was shown through the various hallways of the Luthor mansion, Chloe couldn't help but be grateful that Lana had moved out a few weeks before. Although it had meant endless hours of listening to her go on and on about the tragedy that was her life, it was worth the waste of her time if it meant not having to deal with working on anything covert with Lana.

Not that Lana wasn't a capable person, but in these matters her sense of deservedness seemed to get in the way of any sort of subtlety and she tended to just flounce into a situation and demand that people give her her "due". If one could look past the intrinsic self-centeredness in her actions, it would all be very "I am Woman Hear Me Roar"…except that she always had a guy behind her to take care of things in case the whole pouting/eyelash batting plan didn't work out.

At least she gave it a try, Chloe thought. Lana couldn't help it if her attempts a self-actualization left her less like Sally Ride and more like Astronaut Barbie.

Entering through the heavy wooden door, Chloe glanced around the study while Lex finished his phone call, a feeling of déjà vu strong within her. They were back where it all begun, about to untie once more against a common enemy.

As she read through the file Lex had given her she'd realized that even if she didn't feel some bizarre connection to the man before her, and even if she wouldn't do everything within her power for Mrs. Kent who'd been the closest thing to a mother she'd ever known, she still would have been here if for no other reason than that the information she had read in the folder she'd been given still made her slightly sick, hours after she'd read it.

She'd never doubted, even through his supposed reformations, of which she always maintained a level of quiet suspicion, that Lionel Luthor was capable of unbelievable atrocities. But nothing had prepared her for the reports she'd read, the pictures she'd seen, the experiments they'd captured.

BRK2784-D. It was the name of a research drug, designed by scientists at LuthorCorp, to treat various forms of cancer by bonding to the abnormal cells and causing them to liquefy. In theory, the concept was actually quite brilliant.

The drug, given intravenously, contained microscopic beads encasing three distinct components. The first was a binding agent, the second a time release coating, and the third a mechanism of liquefaction.

The binder was engineered to adhere itself to cells. Given that human body had a number of complex defense systems to protect healthy cells and that mutated cells were already under attack, the binding agent was able to affix itself more rapidly to the damaged cells.

As soon as the drug entered the body, the time release coating began to dissolve. Mere minutes after the coupling of the binder to the diseased cell, the protective layer was gone.

At this point the liquefying agent was released and the cell was eaten away from the inside. This component of the drug was very short lived, and dissipated before having a chance to damage healthy cells.

When reading the initial R&D reports, Chloe had been in awe of the intricate timing that had been built into the drug. It was a chemical dance; each element needing to work in perfect harmony with the others with no steps missed, no instant wasted if it were to help and not harm.

But harm it did. Just as she'd known it would when she'd read that the main component of the binder was comprised chiefly of meteor rocks.

From the researchers perspective the reasoning had been sound; but their refusal to understand and to respect the true nature of the meteorites had led to disaster. They knew that the rocks, in whatever form, caused often rapid mutations in those exposed. Based on that information they had theorized that the composite would most quickly penetrate damaged or altered cells not protected by the body's natural defenses. They also believed that the minute amount of time between injection and liquefaction would ensure that no further cell mutation would occur do to the use of the distilled meteors.

They had been correct in every supposition except the last. The Kryptonite used was a condensed form, and therefore it acted upon the body in much the same way that years of exposure to the stones might. Combining it with currently mutating cells had also been a grievous error as they we're already in flux and thus primed for further change.

It had been discovered, within the first few trials, that although the cells dissolved, the addition of the meteors into the formula seemed to preserve some of the altered material of the eradicated cell, leaving the debris free to infect new cells.

Chloe had worked hard to keep from violently retching when she saw the pictures of the animal test subjects from the first attempts; back when BRK2784-D was BRK2784-A. The deformed corpses, features twisted in agony, limbs melded to bodies as their skin cells had actually liquefied their tissue were horrific. And though she was sure that those images would haunt her nightmares for years to come, what boggled her mind most was that the experiments hadn't halted immediately; that they'd continued long enough for formula A to develop into the D version.

And halfway through the testing of BRK2784-C things took an even ghastlier turn as the doctors were ordered to begin human trials. It had been made clear that only tests on human subjects would reveal the inherent weaknesses to humans and, therefore, the quickest way to alter the formula. Although there was some resistance from a few of the doctors, no one seriously protested the edict. After all, defying Lionel Luthor was not the recipe for a happy, healthy life.

And though there were no names on the orders to begin human testing, it was clear that it had come directly from the top. Reading the memo had been like hearing it from Lionel himself. His distinct tone of arrogance for those below him and disregard for the consequences of his actions came through in every word and Chloe knew, without a doubt, that every horror that stemmed from this project could be laid at the door of Lionel Luthor.

And the horrors had come fast and furious. Recruiting of human test subjects began. Economically distressed patients given a terminal prognosis were targeted by LuthorCorp scientists who offered them a single chance at hope through the use of an investigational drug, payment for their participation, and the coverage of all previous and future medical expenses. It was hard to tell which held the most sway – the minute chance at recovery or knowing that they wouldn't be leaving their families destitute due to crushing health care costs.

And so almost every patient to whom the offer had been made had accepted, and not one of them lived to tell about it. Not even the bodies had been left as both the subjects and their families had signed a contract with a stipulation that, because of the proprietary nature of the drug, all bodies, should the patient die, would be returned after cremation. Yet another broken promise as the bodies were kept for further study and experimentation.

In a near state of shock over what she was reading, Chloe had absently wondered what had actually been given to the families by LuthorCorp. In the grand scheme of things it seemed the least of their sins, and yet Chloe couldn't stop dwelling on the fact that over fifty families were mourning over an urn that, for all she knew, contained ash from a common fireplace. It was as if Lionel hadn't been satisfied with killing them, but had also spit on their graves.

When she'd reached the last page of the medical reports for the human trials she knew that the photographic records would be next. She'd seen a lot of things in her time in Smallville, many of them unpleasant in the extreme, but nothing prepared her for the pictures to come. And as her eyes fell on the first among many, she found herself off the bed and in the bathroom vomiting without being aware of moving at all.

After splashing cold water on her face and brushing her teeth, she went back into the room and, without glancing at anymore of its contents, flipped it decisively closed. She'd read all of the information, and, as she knew that the trials were still in a state of failure, the pictures would certainly get no easier to view. So in an effort to preserve what little peace her mind might be able to conjure, she decided that anything she missed of importance Lex could relate.

The sound of a clearing throat jolted Chloe out of reliving the revulsion of earlier in the day and alerted her to the fact that Lex was off the phone and had clearly been waiting for her to rejoin him, mentally speaking.

"I take it you've read the file."

Chloe's eyes narrowed in irritation at Lex's unflappable demeanor over something that had shaken her to her very core. Although she supposed he had had time to reestablish his air of detachment after getting over the initial shock. If anything that Lionel did actually shocked him anymore.

"Yes, and thanks for the warning, Lex. Do you want to pay the cost of my therapy directly or have the doctor bill your insurance?"

The expression of apology sat stiffly on his features and Chloe thought that, while it might be because it was so rarely used, it was most likely because it wasn't exceedingly sincere.

"I am sorry for that, Chloe. If I could have obtained the help I need from you without imparting such disturbing information I would have done so."

"Bull shit. You wanted to absolutely horrify me so that there's be no way that I could refuse to help you. Well congratulations; I'll be having nightmares for weeks. Next time try just asking me first before you move right to the scarring me for life portion of your plan."

Satisfied with having reprimanded him sufficiently, Chloe flopped down in a large leather chair.

"Geez, you can't unsee things, you know Lex. I found that out the hard way when I walked into the Kent's loft to find Clark ushering himself into manhood with the help of an old Playboy…And I would've bet good money he'd be a National Geographic guy."

Lex's face shifted instantly from faux regret to genuine repulsion. _That_ was certainly a picture he'd never needed in his head. Ever.

Chloe's pleased laughter pulled him away from his disturbing tally of just how many times he'd sat on Clark's couch. Clearly she'd felt that she'd gotten the necessary measure of revenge as she was seemingly willing to move on. Shooting her one last look of disgust he turned them to the reason for their meeting.

"Since I've been running LuthorCorp I've had access to a great deal of information that I'm sure my father never meant to reach my hands. Apparently he was running a number of these types of experiments all over the world in LuthorCorp medical subsidiaries where the funding, supplies, equipment…bodies, could all be hidden in the endless reams of paperwork that accompany legitimate research.

BRK2784 was by no means the only drug being tested. However, it was the most devastating to its subjects. I've been shutting down my father's more…personal projects as I become aware of them. I've tried to make sure, for reasons I'm sure you can appreciate, that this is done as discreetly as possible. But news must be traveling fast among those involved in these clandestine experiments because, in the last month, my men have stormed 3 separate labs only to find all evidence of any testing, indeed of any existence at all, has vanished completely.

Maybe I could let this rest if I believed that these trials were being disbanded, but I have reason to believe that's not the case."

Lex pushed a photo across his desk towards Chloe, watching as she gingerly picked it up; still wary from the last pictures he'd given her.

"That's Fredrik Vilhelmsdotter, a Swedish geneticist. Not only was he running the BRK2784 trials, but I have reliable information linking him to nearly all of the covert medical projects my father was funding.

He's the link, Chloe; the common thread. He's been spotted in the vicinity of every one of the labs of which I am aware within weeks of their closure or disappearance. If I can find him then I can locate all of the rogue programs and put an end to this before any more atrocities are committed."

Lex watched her face as she took in the information he had given her. He had always felt a kinship to her in this regard. Of all of the people in Smallville it was only Chloe who thought in a manner similar to his own. It's not that the good townsfolk were stupid; they just felt no need to see things beyond the way in which they first appeared.

But he and Chloe were cut from different cloth. They rarely took anything at face value; absorbing facts and seeing what was missing instead of simply what was there. It was what she was doing now. Dismantling what he'd told her and what she knew independently, and reassembling it into a larger whole. And he had to admit that it was a beautiful thing to observe.

Chloe had always been an attractive young woman. But, because she had lived in the shadow of Lana's generic appeal, she'd never really acknowledged that part of herself or developed it into the potential weapon it could be. Of course, that unawareness held an allure all of its own. However, it was always this side of her that he'd been most drawn to; this part of her that was curious enough to long for the truth, brave enough to pursue it, and clever enough to discover it. The sexiest thing about Chloe had always been her thirst for knowledge.

Sometimes, when he could see the fire for answers burning through her, smoldering in her eyes, he wondered just what she would do to quench that thirst; just what he'd give her to be the one to quench it.

As he watched decision, resolution, and determination play across her face, Lex gave himself a moment to regret that he couldn't use the same method of persuasion with Chloe as he had to manipulate Lana. But just because it would be satisfying didn't mean it would work, and he had long since ceased allowing his dick to make all of his decisions.

The fact was that in order to win her confidence he had given Lana what she wanted – the security and purpose she thought only existed in a man's arms. In order to gain Chloe's trust he would have to use different bait – The enticement of discovery and satisfaction of exposition. Chloe wasn't merely a truth seeker; she was a righter of wrongs. And if he had to give her a few windmills to tilt at then all the better. If she was focused on other things she wouldn't know he'd ensconced himself in her life until he'd already learned what he needed to know.

"Okay, Lex; I just have two questions."

He managed to reign in the urge to smirk, but couldn't help the sardonic quirk of one brow.

"In all my years in Smallville I've never known you to have only two questions about anything."

Chloe smiled at him in acknowledgment that he knew her all too well.

"Well then, I only have two for tonight."

"And they would be…"

"What's in this for you?"

Lex wasn't hurt by the question. He'd been expecting it; would have been disappointed it she hadn't asked. Besides, it would be a shame to waste his perfectly good fabrication.

"I'm sure that you're aware that my father nearly regained control of LuthorCorp recently."

He waited for her to nod, having no doubt that, given her history with the Luthors, she kept up to date with their major dealings.

"I, for obvious reasons, can't let that happen. But I'll need some leverage in order to stop him. Getting hold of Dr. Vilhelmsdotter and his records will give me the upper hand.

There's also the fact that, Vilhemsdotter has been growing bolder. These experiments won't stay hidden for much longer. And when they come to light, I need to be the one directing their exposure. It could be disastrous for LuthorCorp unless I could tie them, concretely, to my father and prove that I had put a definite end to them."

He watched as Chloe rolled her eyes. He knew what was coming next. He was counting on it.

"Of course the fact that these are real people being turned into LuthorCorp lab rats doesn't even make the list, right Lex?"

Striving to look injured, Lex answered the accusation.

"Despite our recent differences, I would hope that you would know me better than that, Chloe. Of course I don't want to see anyone unduly harmed. But I am in charge of a multi-billion dollar corporation. Thousands of jobs depend on me making decisions that are in LuthorCorp's best interest. And those decisions don't just affect the lives of my employees, but often entire economies.

Take Smallville, for example. What would have happened to this town if the factory here had closed? It would have devastated the people, even the ones not working for LuthorCorp. There are towns like this throughout the country, Chloe. I have to think about what's best for all of them when it comes to business decisions."

Finally Chloe nodded, accepting the rational behind his answer, just as he knew she would.

"Alright then; why me?"

Lex knew, when she'd said that she only had two questions that this would be the other one. Chloe and he had never been the best of friends, although they'd shared a certain amount of closeness during his father's trial. And since then they'd had a very turbulent relationship, especially after his dealings with Lana. To top it off, she was an aspiring reporter looking for a big break. It would be reasonable for him to worry that she had her own, less than complimentary agenda.

It was times like these when obsessive planning paid off.

"You know how my father's mind works." He smiled briefly at her grimace. "Not exactly a compliment, but there it is. You understand him – how he thinks, what he'll do – in a way that most people never will. You and I, we're among the select few who have beaten Lionel Luthor and lived to tell the tale. And whether I've mentioned it or not, a lot of that was due to you.

Chloe, you've always had the potential to prevail against my father, you just lack the resources. That's why I need your help, and frankly, that's why you need mine. I know you Chloe; after reading that report you'll never be able to let this go. The best chance either of us has to put an end to these barbarities and bring down my father is to work together."

He paused for a moment and pinned her gaze with harsh intensity.

"Besides, whatever problems we've had, Chloe, I know that I can trust you to be fair. Any other reporter would jump at the chance to bring down all the Luthors at once. I know that, no matter how tempting a bigger headline might be, you'll only lay blame where it's deserved."

Nodding her head, Chloe stood and grabbed the file and the picture of Dr. Vilhelmsdotter and shoved them into her bag.

"Give me a few days and I'll let you know what I've found out."

She was already striding towards the door when Lex called out, "Why don't I give you my private number."

Without stopping, she glanced over her shoulder and shot him a wide smile.

"That's okay; I already have it."

And with that she was gone.

Lex allowed himself a small smile at her parting shot. Even though he'd accounted for the majority of her responses she'd still managed to surprise him. It was exhilarating after the plodding predictability of Lana.

It was nice to once again engage a worthy opponent. Lana thought they were at the same level. They hadn't even been playing the same game.

That's why, with Lana, it had been about preying on her inability to exist without the validation of having a man by her side, while Chloe would require more cerebral measures.

Most of what he'd told Chloe had been true. Of course, what had been a fabrication altered the story dramatically.

Yes, his father had been running experiments, and yes, BRK2784 had been among them. What he hadn't shared was that the projects had been shut down more than a year ago, by none other than Lionel, himself.

Of course, it had been painfully easy to convince Chloe of his father's continued guilt. Not because she was gullible by any means, but because nearly every action in his father's life leant credence to the idea that the man was the vessel of Satan. Combine that with Chloe's personal experiences with the man and her worry for the Kents and it wasn't difficult in the least to lead her to the conclusion he desired.

Still, with someone as naturally clever as Chloe it paid to be careful. Lex had made sure to stick to actual facts as often as possible and slightly altered truths whenever deception became necessary.

He'd altered the timestamps on various photos and the dates of the research documents, and his own people's inability to track down the good doctor assured Lex that the man had either gone deep underground or had been a loose string that his father had "tied" up. Other than that he'd let his father's sins do the majority of the convincing. And it had worked like a dream. Chloe had said and done the things that he needed to put his plans into action. It was as if a weight had fallen from his shoulders and he wasn't sure if it was the beginning of a new gambit or the absence of Lana Lang.

He was fairly sure it was both.

Now he was sure that he'd made the right choice in pursuing this angle with Chloe. It was shaping up to be a win-win situation.

If Clark was upset with Chloe for working with Lex, then he might begin pushing her away. With Chloe's history of rejection by Clark that could be the proverbial back-breaking straw of their friendship. And there's nothing more useful in the world than a woman scorned…as long as you're not the idiot that scorned her.

A furious Chloe, with all of Clark's secrets locked inside of her, would be a perfect weapon in what was fast becoming a war between the two men. Not that he honestly believed that Chloe would sell out her best friend. But anger made people careless and less inhibited; hence crimes of passion.

The other scenario would be that Clark would not protest Chloe's working with him. Well, not enough to deter her. While the two of them remained close, access to one was an avenue to the other.

Besides, Clark was becoming more protective of Chloe everyday. Not surprising when one realized that Chloe had, somewhere along the way, become Clark's portable Martha Kent. Caring and nurturing, endlessly supportive, and entrusted with all of his secrets, Chloe had taken up where the busy Mrs. Kent had recently left off. It made him glad that the two seemed to never be able to get together as the vaguely incestuous vibrations would be disturbing in the extreme.

Frankly, he found Clark's hovering ironic when one stopped to consider that it was she who seemed to be spending the majority of her free time rescuing those around her.

For a while Lex had even suspected that Chloe's heroics might have been the byproduct of some meteor prompted mutation. However, after a little investigating, he realized that it was simply Chloe's rampant curiosity, tenacious nature, and kind heart that led her to hurl herself headlong into even the most dangerous situations.

Although he'd believed that his friendship with Clark would be the stuff of legends, the truth was that Clark couldn't have found a better friend than Chloe if he tried. And for once, Clark was actually been aware of something other than himself enough to realize how little he actually deserved her. Oh, not consciously. Lex wouldn't give him credit for that level of insight. But on some level Clark knew that Chloe could find a superior cohort in a heart beat. It was why Clark always kept a gossamer string wrapped around Chloe's heart.

He didn't do it to be cruel. Clark was no more cruel than he was insightful. But he had what all self-oriented people had; what Lana had – The innate sense of self-preservation that developed when one honestly believed themselves to be the central figure of the world around them.

Clark had lived so long at the mercy of his secrets, always afraid that everyone was trying to steal them from him, that it no longer occurred to him that he wasn't the focus of everyone's lives. Lex understood. He, too, was always guarded, always suspicious of what the people around him wanted from him; their true motivations.

He and Clarks were so alike in some ways. There was a time when, had Clark admitted their similarities, Lex might have been able to put aside the need to learn the truth. But Clark's hypocrisy had not only never wavered, it had grown. The constant lectures on morality might have been borne with grace had Clark had any moral high ground from which to heap them upon his head.

No, Clark, with his universe of black and white and his absolute ethics, spent his time lying and hiding and keeping secrets that, far from benign, put those around him in endless danger. Then the boy had the nerve to revile his friendship as if only the Kents ever had a good reason to lie; a decent rationale for secrets.

Lex hated it. And he was starting to suspect that even if he didn't believe that Clark and his secret were at the center of the majority of the things he had been investigating since arriving in Smallville, he would still be driven to expose his secret to the world simply to see Clark stripped of his cloak of perfection. Idly he wondered if Chloe had ever felt that way about Lana. Sometimes being a perpetual outsider became tiring.

He pushed those thoughts aside before his anger overtook him once again. Rage would make him careless. It was his need to know that would drive him know, to discover, that would shape his plans, guide his actions.

Feeling closer to unraveling the mystery that was Clark Kent than ever before, Lex refocused his mind on LuthorCorp. Chloe would contact him when she found the first clue he'd left her. Until then, as he'd told her, he had a business to run.

******************TBC... **


	2. Part Two

**Chapter Three**

"You broke up with Jimmy."

Chloe looked up from the papers she was reading to see Clark sliding into the chair next to her. She could already tell that this was one of those Clark talks that was going to grate on her nerves. If he'd had half the mind for strategy that Lex had he would have stopped at the counter and picked up a cup of coffee on his way over so that she could at least try to focus on his generosity as her annoyance began to mount.

She loved Clark. Not only was he a good man, but he'd been her best friend for years. But Chloe had never been blind to his flair for pomposity…well, she hadn't been blind to it for a long time. When he was at his worst she tried to remember that it wasn't because he was a jerk. Clark was simply the product of his environment. Small towns often bred small minds. It was one of the reasons that she always felt so out of place despite the years she'd lived there.

On the other hand, Chloe tried to bear in mind that big city living came with a set of irritants all its own – cynicism, brashness, a smart mouth – and Clark probably suffered her silently as often as she suffered him.

"Am I the only person on the planet that didn't have me and Jimmy halfway down the aisle? Clark, I hadn't seen Jimmy in years. We met again, under extreme stress, went out a few times and I wasn't sure that it was working out so I told him I thought we should cool off the dating for a while."

Which was the truth, but not all of it. The fact is that when Clark was going off to face Zod, Chloe had played out an adolescent fantasy and planted a kiss on Clark the likes of which he'd probably never experienced. But then the world hadn't had the courtesy to end and she was left with the prospect of major awkwardness between her and her best friend. So she'd done what and rational person would have done – she grabbed the first guy who showed some interested in her and played that they were on the verge of couplehood.

It didn't speak highly of the brightness of Clark's bulb that he honestly believed that, in the middle of the epic destruction of Metropolis, she'd stopped to enhance her love life. Honestly, it wasn't as if relationship concerns had been her main priority up until then, so why on earth was it so easy to believe that she'd set aside her worry for her best friend, her fear for her life, and her belief that the human race was on the brink of enslavement to make a love connection.

But whatever the reasons she had for letting Clark believe that she and Jimmy were an item, she certainly didn't intend to lead the young photographer on. Jimmy Olson was a truly nice guy and she didn't want to hurt him. So when she saw that, for him, their casual dates were taking on some deeper significance, she decided that it was only fair to put an end to things before they got out of hand. Years of being emotionally toyed with by someone she'd desperately wanted left her sensitive to the same plight in others. She wouldn't let Jimmy go through what she had, and so, mercifully in her opinion, she had put an end to things quickly.

"So, this doesn't have anything to do with Lex?"

Chloe's brows pulled together as she tried to decipher the meaning behind Clark's words. Finally realizing that she wasn't quite sure she'd even want to understand the peculiar way in which his mind worked she decided just to ask what the hell he was talking about.

"Lex? Why would I break up with Jimmy because of Lex?"

Clark shrugged, but there was censure in his gaze as his eyes met hers.

"I know that you talked to him the other day."

Smallville was…well, small. She'd known that word would reach Clark about her meeting with Lex sooner or later and she'd expected some sort of inquisition on the subject. But this? It was just bizarre.

"You think that I broke up with Jimmy because I had a cup of coffee with Lex? Are you feeling alright, Clark?"

"I just – I don't know what to think, Chloe. You've seen how Lex has been lately. Probably always was and I just never let myself see it. He's not a good guy and that's just not going to change. I know that you think so, too, so I don't understand why you'd bother trying to talk to him.

Chloe, I've already lost Lana to him. I can't loose anyone else."

Of course. This was about Clark's sense of loss, and therefore only about her in a roundabout, generic way. Why was she not surprised?

"Wow, Clark. I'm not sure what to say. That was just so much arrogance and stupidity on your part that I'm not sure which to tackle first."

Clark's eyes widened with hurt and then his features settled into a knowing expression as if this was exactly what he'd expected after her exposure to Lex's influence. As if the man were a meteor rock.

"Chloe - "

"No, Clark. We're not doing this. Did I have coffee with Lex? Yes. Did I go over to the manor later that evening? Yes." She ignored the stunned look on her friends face. "Did Lex and I make a deal? Yes. All of which I was planning to talk to you about today before you got all "Whose your daddy", but in an actual creepy parental way."

"Chloe - " Clark tried again.

"Only one of us is going to talk right now, and here's a hint – It's not going to be you."

It was only her growing annoyance that kept Chloe from smiling at the fact that this man – the most powerful being on Earth – could actually be cowed by a girl he could blow clean across the state with one hearty puff in her direction. It was kind of a high.

"Clark, Lex came to me with some information about Lionel that he needed help looking into. I'm not going to go into details right now, but it was some pretty scary stuff, Clark. It had to do with some covert LuthorCorp projects that Lionel was running.

From the information I got, the experiments are still going on, and while I can't tell whether or not Lionel's involved, they need to be stopped because people – God, Clark. You can't even begin to imagine what they're doing to them."

Not wanting her next comment to be overheard lest it begin a series of unneeded questions in the minds of the town gossips who often came to gather information at what was one of Smallville's few hubs of activity.

"Besides, I don't need to remind you that Lionel knows a lot of things that might not be in everyone's best interests if the light he's seen isn't quite as bright as he's claiming. After all, even his jailhouse conversion didn't seem to last past the first real temptation he encountered."

Clark paused a moment, making sure that it was safe to interject.

"Chloe, I've certainly had my doubts about Lionel, but he's kept my secret for a while now. And when Zod got loose, he helped us, even though it meant that it might mean killing Lex."

Her eyes rolled as she let out a disgusted hmmph.

"Wow, Lionel willing to let his son die. The only thing that shocks me about that is that he didn't volunteer to do it himself. It's not like he hasn't indulged _that_ particular hobby before."

"Just what did Lex tell you, Chloe?" Clark asked in mystification. "Look, I know that Lionel has a really bad track record, and I'd be a fool to trust him blindly. But the one thing I'm absolutely sure of is that Lex can't be trusted at all. He's done everything he can to hurt me. I know that I've had my issues with Lionel, but at least he seems to be making an effort.

You know what it's been like for me lately. Lionel's tried to be there in whatever way he can. He's actually helped, Chloe."

She did know what Clark's life had been like recently, and her eyes filled with sympathy for her friend's devastating loss, but by the time he'd reached the end of his sentence her face had hardened into a cold mask of anger.

"No. No way, Clark. You don't get to use Lionel's highly questionable sincerity to judge Lex. You just remember that every kind word, every supportive gesture he gives you are things that he _never_ gave to his son.

He helps you deal with your life difficulties? That's great Clark, but what about the little boy who lost his mother only to be emotionally brutalized by the man you're getting all of those warm fuzzies from.

When you met Lex you two became friends because you saw something good in him. Well you know what? He didn't have fantastic parents to nurture those values. Every decent thing in Lex since his mother died he's preserved on his own."

Chloe's anger was a fearsome thing to behold, and Clark backed slightly away her, unwilling to put his invulnerability to the test.

"Lionel did _nothing_ for his son. And the only thing worse than that is that all of those things he denied Lex, he's trying to give to you.

At least before, Lex could pretend that Lionel just wasn't capable of any realistic attempt at parenting. But now he finds out that his father's more than able to spread around the paternal love; just not in his direction.

You're so mad that Lex has Lana and you don't, even though we both know that, whether he took advantage of it or not, she left because she knew there were things you weren't willing to tell her.

But you have Lex's father. And that's through _no_ fault of Lex's, because he's being _exactly_ the type of son that Lionel demanded, and you think Lex should just get over it?!"

Chloe let some of her anger on Lex' behalf drain away as she leaned forward to place her hand over Clark's on the table.

"Clark, you need to understand that good fortune isn't the same as good character.

Has your life been the original Wall of Weird? Yep. But that doesn't make it bad, just different."

Even though it was a slow day, the Talon was nearly empty, and Chloe, not wanting to be disturbed, had chosen a table tucked far back in a corner, she still glanced around, checking for eavesdropping ears in the vicinity, before she spoke her next, hushed words.

"Clark, an entire planet of people died. But you lived. You had these amazing birth parents that spent the end of their lives ensuring that yours continued. Then you fall out of the sky and into the arms of two of the nicest people that ever existed.

You're gorgeous, smart, and you have frickin' superpowers! The only downside of your life is your "secret", which _you've_ decided that you can't ever share. And, even then, you have people all around you that are ready and willing to help shoulder that burden."

Having never heard his life in those terms, Clark was slightly stunned and made no move to interrupt as Chloe continued.

"You know that I love you. I'm _so_ glad that you've blessed in the ways that you have. Clark, you just haven't had sufficient bad in your life to judge Lex in this. You can hate him, you can take back your friendship, and you can never talk to him again. But you don't get to pretend that you understand enough of Lex's life to say who he should be. And you _never_ get to do so by comparing him unfavorably to Lionel Luthor."

Chloe stood and leaned over to kiss Clark's cheek hoping the gentle gesture would calm some of the confusion she could feel radiating from him. There were so many wonderful things about Clark, but this tendency he had towards being overly judgmental certainly wasn't one of them. Still, she'd spent too much time soothing his feelings to let him think she was angry at him when she was just frustrated by his inability to look beyond how the events in this world affected him.

"I have some errands to run, but I'll call you tonight. Now tell me you're worried but that you trust me and maybe I'll reconsider sticking a certain rock we all know and loathe where the sun don't shine."

To his credit, Clark seemed almost shocked that she'd even need to ask.

"Of course I trust you, Chloe. You know that, don't you?"

Throwing her bag over her shoulder she graced him with a dazzling smile as she turned to go.

"Absolutely. But it's still good to hear."

And so Clark watched Chloe leave the Talon, much as Lex had. But where Lex had been filled with an anticipatory excitement, Clark was only swamped by a myriad of questions all centered on a common theme – How could Chloe so misunderstand Lex Luthor, and what he could do to save her from his former friend?

* * *

**Chapter Four**

Chloe groaned and wrapped a hand around the back of her neck, trying to ease away some of the kinks that came with hours of research. One would think that after years of investigating she would be immune to these types of muscle cramps. But in the end all the pain had been worth it.

In front of her sat her first real lead to Dr. Fredrik Vilhelmsdotter and, hopefully, to the remainder of the rogue medical tests being conducted.

In Chloe's mind, any productive investigation began by learning everything you could about the people, places, and things involved. Knowledge, after all, was power. And it wasn't just learning the facts; it was that the more you understood about the basics of any situation, the easier it was to spot the lies. And someone was always guaranteed to lie. Being able to point out the falsehood was the key to unraveling any cover up.

She wished she could attribute that lesson to the great Nellie Bly, but she had to give Scooby his due. She'd learned a lot watching the perpetually hungry pooch unmask ghosts. She'd also learned that she could get Clark and Pete to do almost anything if she carried around snacks in her purse. She owed that dog a lot.

So she'd started by creating a standard profile of the man. Unfortunately, there was little to no information available. Much of that seemed to be due to his parent's immigration to Germany a few years before the start of World War II. In the chaos of war and then the division and rebuilding of so much of Europe, the whereabouts and activities of individuals were often lost in a way that didn't quite happen since the advent of credit cards and the internet.

So, aside from his early years in Sweden, there was almost nothing until his collegiate studies began in France. But what had been lacking in his earlier years was more than made up for by his time in the halls of higher learning.

Considered a visionary by all who crossed his path, Vilhelmsdotter seemed destined to be regarded with great names such as Pasteur, Curie, and Nobel. His work with genetics and cell manipulation, even as a student, laid the foundation for many of the breakthroughs that followed in the field in later years. He graduated valedictorian and was offered countless positions at hospitals and research centers all over the world.

And just when it seemed that her job would be simple from that point on, nothing. Zippo. Zilch. It was as if he'd just disappeared from the face of the Earth.

But Chloe wasn't easily deterred. Or so many people had told her…in loud and excessively whiny voices.

So, she momentarily left off investigating the Invisible Man, and began tracking down his friends. And Dr. Vilhelmsdotter had been awfully accommodating by having just the one. Geez, why wasn't it surprising that the man who preyed upon the fears and desperation of the grievously ill wouldn't be mister popularity?

Dr. Alain Savard; the sole friend to Fredrik Vilhelmsdotter throughout their college days. It had appeared at first that this lead went no further than the others, as Savard seemed just as baffled as his colleagues at Vilhelmsdotter's disappearance. But she'd learned over the years to follow every lead 'til its conclusion whether it seemed as if it would be productive or not. The wisdom of that philosophy was borne out when she came across a small article from April, 2003.

Buried in the back of the business section, it was nothing major; a small fire at a research laboratory. Although the fire department was quick to douse the blaze, the building was evacuated due to the unknown nature of the chemicals inside.

The story wasn't particularly newsworthy, and if it hadn't been for two facts it probably wouldn't have merited any mention at all, even as filler. One, the laboratory was owned by ACH Industries, a multinational company rumored to be on the brink of a new procedure for accelerated cell production. Two, a freelance photographer had happened to be passing the lab on his way home and had snapped some eye-catching pictures of the fire which immediately earned it a place, no matter how obscure, in the paper.

But neither of those things were what had made it noteworthy to Chloe. What had given the article importance to her investigation were two of the building's evacuees who had been captured on film watching the fireman extinguish the flames.

Doctors Vilhelmsdotter and Savard.

It was quite a find because it was the first sighting of the man outside of those that Lex's people had been able document near the sites of projects that they were attempting to close. Even more important, was that it gave her the only concrete proof that Dr. Vilhelmsdotter existed as more than just one of LuthorCorps shadow employees.

But what had her practically dancing in her seat was that the home of Dr. Savard was none other than her favorite bustling, urban hub - Metropolis. Which meant that, within a matter of hours, she could be busy making with the ambushing and the interrogating. If she could just add some sneaking around to her list she might float away on a sea of delight.

Of course her little bubble of reporter glee popped when she realized that this officially constituted having information, and that, if she wanted Lex to be up front with her then she knew that she'd better do the same. Not that she really thought that Lex would be completely straight with her. But at least this way she could claim the moral high ground and hold it over his head when she discovered his inevitable transgression.

With a sigh of resignation she flipped open her cell phone and consoled herself with the small thrill of finally using the number she'd worked so hard to obtain.

* * *

**Chapter Five A**

"Why did I have to bring you along again?"

Lex shot Chloe a look of exasperation before returning his attention to the road.

"Technically, this is my car and so you're actually accompanying me."

"Well, _technically_ Lex, you're being an ass. Just because you're playing Jeeves for the evening doesn't mean you get to horn in on my lead."

When Chloe had called him earlier, Lex had actually been glad for the distraction. While he enjoyed the thrill of the hunt that business provided at the level on which LuthorCorp played, the sheer amount of time and attention demanded could be wearing. And, even though these interactions with Chloe were, in their own way, an effort, he had to admit that she was certainly a pleasant change from the fawning sycophants and corporate vultures he dealt with every day.

If there was one thing that you could count on with Chloe it was that she'd speak her mind. Often to her detriment. He'd long suspected that was part of what kept her on Lionel's radar, even now. Her blunt honesty would be as intriguing to his father as it was to him for all the same reasons. Probably more so since the man seemed psychologically incapable of uttering the truth.

Of course, it was a trait that she shared with Clark and Lana. But in the hands of her friends, brutal honesty became a weapon that they used when they were angry; calling up a litany of past wrongs and using them to bludgeon those with whom that they apparently felt quite magnanimous for suffering so long. Whereas with Chloe it was simply a natural state of being and, as such, although it could be both infuriating and inconvenient, it lacked any real malice.

"And here I've been laboring under the delusion that we had formed a partnership in this matter."

Carefree laughter filled the car and Lex felt himself hard pressed not to smile at the happy sound.

"Lex, you make us sound like some sort of Fortune 500 business merger. You need to loosen up. If I wanted to investigate with a muddy stick I'd have called Clark."

The urge to smile fled and he didn't even try to resist the desire to scowl. While it was true that he had been setting general parameters and guidelines for the coming interview, Lex didn't believe that made him some sort of wet blanket. And it certainly didn't merit the comparison to Clark. He was simply being prudent. The first rule of business was 'careful preparation before confrontation'…Well, actually, the first rule was 'Do unto others before they could do unto you'; but that saying always made him seem like a dick, so he had adopted the more moderate credo and then let his actions speak to his true philosophy.

"This isn't world domination, you know; you don't need to over think it. We go in, confront the doctor, and grill him 'til he cracks. Easy as pie."

Chloe paused for a moment and Lex could almost hear the thoughts whirling through her head.

"Of course," she finally continued, "it'll have to be bad cop/bad cop. 'Cause I refuse to play the good cop again and well, really, who'd believe good cop coming from you?"

"Are you casting aspersions on my character, Ms. Sullivan?"

"I'm casting light upon your character, Mr. Luthor. There's a difference." Her eye slid sideways to meet his and a teasing smile danced on her lips. "Besides, we both know that you'd be upset to be thought of as anything less than a bastard. After all, you spend so much time trying to convince people of your nefarious nature that it would be rude of me to spoil the illusion."

The sentiment, although humorously intended, disturbed Lex. It wasn't that he entertained any latent regret for his manipulation of her. And it wasn't because she seemed to hold some Lana-like belief that his harsh exterior was hiding unplumbed depths of inherent goodness. No, this was different.

What bothered Lex about Chloe's observation was that she appeared to perceive him, not as a gentle soul, lost in the darkness and longing for the light, but as a carefully crafted façade of ruthlessness concealing weakness. A state he feared closer to the truth than he cared to admit.

And for the first time since this subterfuge began, he felt slightly uneasy about the outcome.

* * *

**Chapter Five B**

Dr. Savard's residence was a large, yet unassuming house in an upper class suburb of Metropolis. Although Chloe knew that he could have afforded a much grander dwelling in one of the city's elite gated communities, what she'd learned of the man indicated that he was nearly obsessed with keeping a low profile. A fact that would seem a hindrance for a reporter, but could often be turned to great advantage depending on what secrets one held as leverage.

The majestic tone of the doorbell echoed through the home, fading slowly to be replaced by the steady beat of feet heading towards them. She wondered briefly if Dr. Savard was the type of man to look through the peephole before opening the door. If so, she would have paid good money to have known what thoughts might race through his mind at the sight of Lex Luthor and guest waiting patiently for entry.

Well, at least Lex was waiting patiently. Chloe was experiencing the sudden surge of adrenalin that preceded her every major foray into the investigative arena. She was the first to admit that she a mystery addict. She just wasn't willing to admit it to anyone else. Lord knew that she loved her friends, but they weren't always the most tolerant of folk. If they thought, for a minute, that they could stifle her nosiness with an intervention she'd find herself locked in a room with her dad, Lana, Clark and a library full of twelve-step literature.

Although she had a feeling that Lex would understand. In the days before Lionel's trial she'd seen him in various stages of many a business negotiation, and she'd been able to recognize the same rush in him when his deal was coming together that she got when she found a hot lead to chase. It was one of the things that had always made Lex seem somewhat of a kindred spirit and she had, in those trying and uncertain months, wondered what would have happened if Lex had been just another normal Smallvillian…and wasn't that quite the oxymoron.

Of course, she had never once considered what things would have been like had she been a trust fund baby. Sure, at one time, she would have like have known Lex better, but she hardly thought that both of them being pompous blowhards would have achieved that goal.

But all thoughts of friendships, realized or potential, fled as the door opened and Chloe became one hundred and ten percent reporter. And with the critical eye that accompanied that mindset, she took in Dr. Savard.

With an unruly mop of salt and pepper hair, large, thick glasses that did nothing to disguise his intelligent eyes, and an obviously hand carved, rustic looking cane, the French septuagenarian before her stood bare inches taller than herself and was, in every stereotypical way that TV had been gracious enough to teach her, the quintessential little old man.

And Chloe hated him.

She didn't really. After all, hating a man who looked as if he was about to whip out a butterscotch candy and ruffle her hair at any moment didn't quite seem possible, even given her cynical bent. But she certainly wasn't happy with him, because there was no way she was going to be able to break out bad cop on a man who, she had a sneaking suspicion, made cookies in a hollow tree in his spare time.

"Mr. Luthor. I have to admit that I wouldn't have thought to find you on my doorstep this evening. Would you and your lovely companion come inside?"

"Thank you, Dr Savard."

Lex gestured for Chloe to enter and they followed the doctor through the antique-laden foyer, down a short hall and into what was clearly the man's study. Large wood panels covered the walls and heavy furniture dominated the space in a way that might have made the room claustrophobic if it hadn't been rescued by the sheer fascination engendered by a myriad of eclectic possessions that were clearly the fruits of a lifetime spent in the pursuit of knowledge and were endearingly crammed into every nook and cranny of free space, as opposed to catalogued and filed.

As soon as they'd settled themselves into the supple leather chairs in front of the heavy mahogany desk, Dr. Savard moved back towards the door.

"Shall I ask Myra to bring us some coffee?"

Chloe's smile was a beautiful thing and her head had begun nodding her approval of the plan before it had been fully expressed. After hours stuck in a car with Lex "do you _have_ to do that?" Luthor, coffee didn't sound appealing, it sounded essential.

"Thank you, Dr. Savard. Some coffee would be perfect."

Glancing around the room curiously she caught Lex's growing smirk from the corner of her eye.

"What?"

"Was that the 'confronting' or the 'grilling him 'til he cracks', oh bad cop?"

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. If you ask me you should be down on your knees, kissing that man's feet in gratitude. Do you really want to spend the entire ride back to Smallville with Cranky Chloe?"

"And I'd be able to differentiate the two of you, how?"

Chloe choked back any acerbic queries concerning the possibility of canine DNA somewhere in his ancestry and smiled as their host returned with a silver serving set and three fortuitously large mugs. After a few moments sorting out everyone's coffee, the doctor circled the desk, settling into his chair and surveying the couple before him.

Lex had never been one for impatience, having long learned that control did not lie in acting with speed but with strength. As such, he felt neither pressured by the man's expectant gaze nor compelled to respond. More than that was the importance to his plan that Chloe feel as if she were in control of the inquiry.

It had been tempting, at first, to leave clues strewn across the landscape of her investigation. However, as he'd reminded himself repeatedly, at every stage of development, Chloe was not Lana and she was not Clark. The lack of external focus that would not just allow, but indeed demand, signs near neon in nature before her friends would know which path to follow was not present in Chloe, and that tactic would have been a substantial error in his attempt to steer her movements in this matter. Insulting Chloe's intellect was not a pastime in which even a Luthor could afford to engage.

"Dr. Savard; my name is Chloe Sullivan and obviously you recognize Mr. Luthor. I was planning to begin by apologizing for dropping by without notice, but it doesn't really seem that our visit is unexpected. I have to say that I find that fairly odd since we didn't know we were coming here until a few hours ago."

With a small smile the doctor set down his cup and reached up to stop the downward slide of his glasses, righting them with his index finger in a fluid gesture that spoke of years of repetition. Chloe briefly wondered if the man had ever considered alternative eye wear, but judging by the size of his lenses, were he ever to convert to contacts he wouldn't be able to close his eyes.

"I can honestly say that I had no idea that I'd be receiving guests this evening Miss Sullivan. However, Mr. Luthor's visit, although unexpected, isn't inexplicable in light of a phone call I received Tuesday night from Fredrik."

While Lex was too much the Luthor to give the small start of surprise that Chloe did, he could not deny the feeling. And a hated feeling it was.

After the death of his mother, surprises had lost their luster, consisting primarily of either deliberate or unintentional betrayals. Even on the rare occasion that they were pleasant, Lex enjoyed nothing more than complete control, and so even the happiest of revelations left a bitter taste as they were mere testaments to his ignorance. He knew it wasn't a necessarily pleasant life, but the times that life had caught him off guard had been so much worse. At least with this outlook, when he ended up paranoid and alone it would be in a Scottish castle or a Metropolis penthouse and not on some god-forsaken island.

"Fredrik Vilhelmsdotter?" Chloe's voice broke into Lex's morose musings.

"Yes, Miss Sullivan. While there were many things in Fredrik's life to which I was not privy, I was aware that he had a working relationship with LuthorCorp that could be most prudently described as not entirely above board."

Chloe made a small snort at the vast understatement and, far from being insulted, the elderly man smiled indulgently at the sound and continued.

"I am a scientist, after all, and so I must examine the facts.

First, there is the recent power restructuring in your company involving your father and yourself, Mr. Luthor. This would most likely include your having greater access to projects which your father no doubt went out of his way to conceal, even from his own son.

Second is the fact that I have not seen nor heard from Fredrik for over three years. Then, out of the blue, he calls me two nights ago.

And lastly, aside from minor research funding from some of LuthorCorp's public relations minded, philanthropic endeavors over the years, I have no connection to the Luthors either personally or professionally; so I am left with the most credible hypothesis for your visit being the one commonality between us – Fredrik Vilhelmsdotter.

Unless, of course, the Luthor's have acquired the Girl Scouts and you are here to interest me in some cookies, in which case I will order two boxes and ask you to disregard any references to my old friend."

Some days Chloe couldn't wait to get old. On her snarkiness was considered 'attitude', while on the elderly it was viewed as an inalienable right.

"Well, as cute as I think Lex would look in a green jumper, your original guess was correct. We're here about Dr. Vilhelmsdotter."

Dr. Savard leaned back in his chair and nodded in understanding.

"Pity; I find their Thin Mints to be rather addicting."

"Well, if you can answer some of our questions maybe I can arrange to keep that information out of the hands of those unscrupulously cute cookie hawkers."

"Miss Sullivan, now that you know my weakness I have little recourse but to throw myself on your mercy and offer up whatever information I possess."

Chloe's face retained her pleasant, teasing expression, but her eyes cut into the man before her, stripping away age and charm and leaving only truth and lies visible. The piercing look was somewhat disconcerting to both men, but before either could find a way to distract her the intensity left her gaze and her face conveyed nothing more than a congenial intent to gather information.

"You've referred to Dr. Vilhelmsdotter as a friend, and yet you've been very cooperative with us even though you must know that if we're here to question you about him it's because he's taken measures to avoid our more direct attempts at contact. Therefore, you either plan to lie to us or you have no knowledge which would cause the man harm. I'm suspecting that it's the latter."

Savard nodded his head in acknowledgment.

"Your logic is sound and your guess quite correct. But be careful in your reasoning, Miss Sullivan; few things in life are a dichotomy."

"Duly noted, Dr. Savard. So, if there's nothing damaging to relate, would you mind sharing the details of your last contact with Dr. Vilhelmsdotter with us?"

As she was speaking, Chloe pulled a small tape recorder from her purse. Generally, in these types of cases, she either didn't use recording devices because of the safety issues involved should they be discovered were she to use them secretly, or due to the inhibitions they often generated in the guilty if she were overt about their use. However, she believed the man before her when he said he knew nothing important… well, she believed that _he_ believed it. And since it was unlikely to have any effect on his story, she might as well get an accurate record of it in case he knew more than he thought.

"Of course. On Tuesday evening – I believe it was around seven – I received a phone call from Fredrik.

Miss Sullivan, I have considered Fredrik a friend for more years than I care to count; but nearly five years ago we had a falling out as I was made aware of the details of a project on which he was working. I'll spare us all a recitation of those facts as I assume that you wouldn't be here now if you were not acutely aware of the manner of research in which he was involved."

Chloe nodded her head. She knew how difficult it had been for her to read about Vilhelmsdotter's work. She could only imagine how much worse it would be to learn something like that about a friend. There was nothing to be gained by putting any of them through a recap.

"I didn't see or speak with Fredrik for the next two years. Then, one night, he arrived at the lab I was overseeing."

"The night of the fire."

A small, ironic smile curved his lips at Chloe's interjection.

"All the money and influence expended on making a man disappear undone by coincidence and a free press. Power comes in many forms, Miss Sullivan; I hope that you maintain a healthy respect for that which you , as a reporter, wield."

Now it was Chloe's mouth that tilted upwards, although her expression was far more rueful than contemplative.

"Believe me, Dr. Savard. I've had those lessons burned onto my soul."

"Yes," he said, reading the sadness in her eyes, "I believe that you have. Unfortunately Fredrik hadn't.

It was clear that the choices he had made were catching up with him and he was expecting some kind of repercussions. I begged him to abandon his work and let me help him."

A heavy sigh escaped the man as he took in a far off memory.

"He wore his fanaticism like a cloak. It wasn't simply that he didn't want to be saved. No, by that point my friend was so lost he no longer believed that the need for rescue even existed.

Our argument was halted by the fire. After the evacuation Fredrik asked me to accompany him to his car. When we arrived he took a package out of his trunk and handed it to me. He told me that his life had taken on a certain instability and asked if I would safeguard the parcel until he was in a position to retrieve it from me. I gave him my word, and my promise finally came to an end with that phone call. No real pleasantries were exchanged, no questions asked or answered. Fredrik simply informed me that he would be sending someone to retrieve his belongings the following day, thanked me for keeping them safe, and wished both myself and Myra the best. I'd be a fool to have taken it as anything other than goodbye."

It was clear that the doctor was conflicted, and Chloe could feel both relief and regret coming from the man in regards to the ending of such a long, and at one point, obviously treasured friendship.

"Do you have any idea what was in the package?"

The melancholy faded as Savard laughed in surprise.

"Of course I know what was in the package. I've lived nearly four times as long as you, young lady. Do you think I could have done so by agreeing to house mysterious boxes for people clearly teetering on the cusp of reason?

Don't worry. There was nothing of a dastardly nature in my care. Fredrik merely entrusted me with the last of his family possessions – His parent's wedding pictures, a letter his father had written to him, his sister's diary."

"Wow. A sentimental monster. The files never show you that, huh?"

A gentle smile shaped the doctor's face. It was an expression that spoke, in lines and wrinkles, of a lifetime of experiences; some good, some bad, but all lessons learned. It was the look of someone who feels that they might just know something you don't, and yet there was no condescension in the kind gaze.

"There are no such things as monsters, Miss Sullivan; and you're deceiving yourself if you believe that naming a man such has more to do with vilifying him than it does with than with us, as a society, protecting our concept of self.

To identify a man as evil removes him from humanity; makes of him a unique species, distant from us, of which a few hundred might be bred in a century.

But these monsters you speak of don't exist; no boogeyman lingering in your closet or hiding under your bed. Even the worst of people are, at the heart of it all, simply people."

Turning slightly, Savard reached out and plucked a small frame from amidst a sea of pictures adorning a low hanging shelf. Leaning forward he passed the image to Chloe who instantly recognized the doctor before her and the one in question despite the fact that it had been captured at least fifty years before.

"When I met Fredrik he was full of endless promise with a drive to succeed the likes of which I'd never seen before or since. While he would never have been considered a monster then, neither would I have attempted to assign any undue sentimentality to the young man. Until one night midway through our second year of University.

There was nothing particularly remarkable about the day. The classes had been difficult, the pace furious, but so it had been in all of our school days up to that point, so I saw no deviance in the given pattern of our existence to explain why I should return to my room to find my exceedingly intoxicated best friend all but passed out in front of my door.

What could I do except what any other would have in my place – take him inside to tend to him while prying from him his reasons for the uncharacteristic excess before he had enough sobriety about him to craft a credible lie.

What I learned next created a burden not halved by sharing, but doubled by laying heavily on two hearts."

As she watched, Dr. Savard's eyes took on a distant quality that put him decades beyond their reach, and a shiver slid down Chloe's spine and she had the distinct impression that any disclosure about to made would no more lighten his encumbrance than it had his friend's all those years ago.

"At first it was just a name. Linnea."

Chloe recognized the name of Vilhelmsdotter's sister.

"It took about half an hour before he was sober enough to make sense but still drunk enough to talk. I asked him who Linnea was. He told me that she was his sister.

Never before had I heard Fredrik speak of his family; but then, we had all been children of the war. Few people had been completely spared the reaper's touch, and inquiries as to the well being of family and friends were not the safe haven of small talk that they are here, today.

Despite that, I still felt compelled to explore this hidden part of my friend's life. I admit that I would have pursued the matter, but before I could form my first question the man before me seemed to fracture and his pain poured forth from the now visible cracks in his soul.

He'd been born in Sweden. His family had lived in where his father taught at the Uppsala University . He laughed softly as he told me that he was the younger of two children, then explained his humor by revealing that he was a twin. His smile dissolved as he spoke of the girl.

Strong and courageous. They seemed odd words to describe a young girl, especially one not even an hour older than himself. However, as his story continued I, too, began to picture the girl less in terms of a feminine, pig-tailed version of my friend, and more as a dauntless spirit, a haven of security in the turbulent times unfolding.

At the age of three the family left Sweden as his father had accepted a position as Deputy Chair of the Philosophy Department of the University of Heidelberg. It was to prove a grievous error.

The Vilhelmsdotters were academics and revered the free exchange of ideas that they believed to be the only true path to knowledge. With World War II within two years of eruption, this was not a value openly embraced under Hitler's rule.

In 1939, when war finally did fall upon the land, the Vilhelmsdotters fled to France and the hope of escaping the oppressive influence of the Nazi regime. Sadly, we know that their hopes were to prove in vain."

The doctor's hand shook as he paused for a moment and reached past his coffee to grasp a glass of amber liquid that must have been poured before they arrived. After a rather large drink, he continued.

"His voice was a symphony of grief and pride as he spoke of his parents. Years ahead of their time, they considered themselves citizens of the world rather than slaves of a single nationality; and as the plague of war showed nothing but an increase of momentum, they displayed the courage of their conventions and joined the French Resistance.

The drive to be free is among the most basic of mankind's. As such, there are no inhabitants of an occupied territory that do not have secrets, as they struggle, often silently, to throw off the chains of tyranny. This had an even greater degree of truth in France, where so much of the war was waged covertly. Hearing Fredrik's recollections brought that feeling back to me in an instant as he, even a decade later, spoke in a hushed whisper about those years; as if the SS were, at any moment, going to burst in and seize us.

Although I could not see his face, I could see his struggle not to weep. His shoulders shuddered under the heaviness of his sorrow and his words took on the texture only tears can give.

For the next two hours, like Michelangelo with an unadorned cathedral, he painted for me the picture of his life in those years. He told of his parent's deepening involvement in the movement. Of how, in order to be effective, they had to maintain a pretense of normalcy that precluded them actually having any. But mostly he spoke of his sister, who took on the mantle of adulthood years too early to allow him whatever small remnants of childhood could be salvaged from the grasping jaws of war.

His words were, in turn, colored by the ravages of clandestine battles or filled with the love and strength that true family brings, even in adversity. But no matter the subject, lying beneath the surface of each memory was a cresting wave of tragedy that had me caught tight between longing to comfort my friend and fleeing his presence before hearing of the misery that had led him to his current state."

Chloe could certainly sympathize with a sense of impending doom. She was fast developing one herself.

"It had been a decade to the day, he'd told me. He remembered everything from the clothes he was wearing to the song his sister was singing as the played in front of the fire. His parents, always calm and composed to avoid unwanted attention, had rushed into the house. He'd known then that something was wrong.

With a few terse words they'd sent the nanny out the back way to warn the others that they had been compromised and began hustling Fredrik and his sister into the kitchen. Many Resistance members had small hiding spaces concealed in their homes for themselves, their families, or other freedom fighters. The Vilhelmsdotters were no different and there was a small hollow beneath the floorboards of their kitchen. Moving a wooden seating bench to the side, his parents opened cleverly hidden door and pushed the children through. It wasn't until they heard the bench being pushed back into place that they understood that their parents were not planning on hiding with them.

Of course, as an adult he understood that there was no escaping at that point and if they'd all tried to run together then his parents would have had little choice but to talk as the Nazis were not above using the well being of loved ones as leverage for information. But as a small boy, locked in a dark hole with his sister, rational thoughts such as those were miles away. Through a small crack between the boards four little eyes watched as their parents nearly made it out of the room before it was overrun with shouting men in black uniforms.

He looked up at me for a moment with horror darkened eyes and told me that that was the first time that night that Linnea saved his life. When he'd seen his parents grabbed his first thought had been to call to them. Before the words could fly from his lips his sister's hand was pressed tight against his mouth.

And then the interrogation began.

He said that it went on for hours upon hours. I had wondered how accurate that piece of his recollection was given one's perception of time, especially a child's, in a crisis; but as he continued I realized that it didn't matter. Reality is often defined by our senses, and whether those events lasted seconds or days, the way in which he discerned them at the time would always be what characterized it in his mind.

When his parents refused to answer questions regarding the Resistance the beatings started. His father's face was nearly unrecognizable when his sister finally pulled him around and buried his face in the crook of her neck. He told me that he hadn't even been aware that he was flinching at the sound of every blow until Linnea's hands ran through his hair and came to rest securely over his ears.

It was those hands gently moving to stroke down his back that let him know the ordeal was over just as the hatch was lifted and the faces of three men with whom his parent's had worked stared down at them. Although he was shocked to see them, Linnea was not. And at that moment Fredrik realized two things that I could see still broke his heart a decade after the fact – If she wasn't shocked by their arrival she must have been keeping watch through the slit in the flooring the entire time, and that if her hands had been covering his ears then none had been covering hers.

They were rushed out of the house quickly, both to elude detection and to spare them the sight of their parent's broken bodies. Clinging to each other and still too deep in shock for tears, they finally arrived at what he assumed to be a safe house given the group of people gathered there.

Fredrik had had no fears that they would be abandoned. People engaging in rebellion tended to expect the worst and plan accordingly, so he'd been fine letting the adults carry through with their plans. Until he'd heard them begin to discuss where to transport him and where to send his sister.

He said that the following minutes were a blur, but when he finally felt himself, once again, in the safety of his sister's embrace, he'd calmed enough to see that he'd overturned half the furniture in the room. As he looked into his sister's face he realized that, for once, she was as worried as he. He knew, with the intuitiveness that comes with spending every moment of you life with another, that she wasn't worried only about what would happen to him when she wasn't with him, but what would happen to her.

I asked how he knew and he told me that he could see it in her eyes- the fear that without him to be strong for she'd crumble away to nothing.

But before he could get all the words out – to tell her how brave she was; to tell her how she'd saved him so many times, and not just that night; to tell her that he was simply the beneficiary of her strength, and not it's creator – she gently kissed his cheek and told him that distance didn't matter; the same love that would keep their parents in their hearts would bring them back together before they had time to realize they were apart.

The sobs he'd been fighting broke loose as he told me that he'd lost a mother for the second time that day.

That was the last time he ever saw Linnea.

The war ended a year later, but Fredrik had been sent to England while his sister, he'd eventually learned, had been sent to Switzerland. While America had escaped relatively unscathed, much of Europe was in chaos as countries recovered and the displaced made their way back to their old homes or settled in new ones. Families were often separated for years, sometimes indefinitely. For an eleven year old boy, the odds of success were disheartening.

Having exhausted all the leads he could follow from his home, Fredrik, at fourteen, set out to find her. He spoke fondly of his foster family, saying that they gave him all the funds that they could spare to facilitate the journey.

He was quiet for a few minutes as if relieving his travels in his mind. Wherever his search had taken him he never shared with me and the next words he spoke were of its conclusion.

It was two years before he found her. She'd been laid to rest in Bois-de-Vaux Cemetery. Apparently cancer had taken her the year before. At sixteen he was alone in the world; no family, no home, and, as he gazed at his sister's grave, no purpose.

From that day forward, he said, he had devoted himself to science. The passion in his dedication animated him in a way that I'd never before seen and I suspected that the constant battle he waged with the arbitrary fate of genetics kept his sister close to him.

The next day Fredrik awoke sober and we never talked of that night; but from then on I understood the soil which nurtured what was to become an obsession."

But for the crackling of the fire, the room was silent. Although, up to this point, Lex had been satisfied letting Chloe guide the dialogue, he could see that she was caught up in processing what they'd learned; assimilating it with what they'd already known of Dr. Vilhelmsdotter and generating a new, improved profile of the man, and so he chose to break the silence.

"As touching as that story was, is it supposed to make what the man has done any better?"

Chloe was a sensible woman; practical and level headed. However, Lex was also aware of her large heart and seemingly boundless capacity for caring. For his plans to come to fruition he needed her to keep her laser-like focus on finding Vilhelmsdotter, and not to allow the distractions that could grow in tandem with a swell of sympathy. So before the evening could move in that direction he asked the question that would, hopefully, reinforce the doctor's villainy.

"Of course no, Mr. Luthor." Came Savard's surprising reply. "It makes what he's done a hundred times worse. Although the mere word 'victim' implies a lack of culpability on one's part, the unfortunate state does not come without an inherent duty. Once one is victimized, it becomes their responsibility never to make a victim of another. We don't blame a child for breaking a rule of which he is unaware, but as a consciousness of the right grows, so too do our expectations of the youth's behavior. Awareness necessitates accountability. Fredrik knows the suffering that rampant abuse of power causes; thus he is in even greater error than those who transgress with no personal familiarity with the consequences of their actions."

"So if the point of this stroll down another man's memory lane wasn't to garner sympathy for a friend, what was its purpose?"

Lex made a living out of reading people, but at this moment he was at a loss as to what wheels were spinning in the mind of the man across from him.

"This small history lesson was not to absolve Fredrik, nor was it to make of him a wounded hero. Evil and divinity are the bastions of theology, and not a luxury that man can afford. Sympathy and loathing aside, Fredrik Vilhelmsdotter was not a demon, not a monster, but a man. Like every one of us he lived and loved and lost. And although we may never use our pain a justification for harm, the potential lies in all of us.

All of our attempts to believe otherwise, to distance ourselves from these people, don't protect us. Indeed, they endanger us all as they ensure that, once again, we will be blind to their rise to power."

The doctor leaned forward as if to physically propel his words into their psyches.

"We convince ourselves, so deeply, that we could never bear any resemblance to these people that we're often oblivious to the first steps we might be taking on the very path they traveled into darkness.

Do you think that, overnight, Hitler gained power? That, in an instant Pol Pot was granted the reigns of control?

No. These men were allowed to amass their power by the people. People with normal lives; common hopes and fears. And why would they do so? Because they believed that men and monsters were different.

There are no wolves in sheep's clothing. Just homicidal sheep."

* * *

**Chapter Six**

The ride home had passed largely in silence as the car's occupants considered the events of the evening.

Chloe snuck another glance at Lex out of the corner of her eye. She'd been doing it for a while now as she pondered what was going through his mind at that moment.

She couldn't help but wonder if he'd noticed how much of the doctor's words could be applied to his life. Despite Lex's nearly compulsive need for control, he had an incongruent belief in destiny. And Chloe was pretty sure that he didn't picture it as 'happily ever after'… or even happily ever.

She knew that, in his time in Smallville, Lex had often tried so hard to be good because he was honestly afraid that he might be incapable of acting without corrupt intentions. It wasn't true. She'd seen proof of it many times. But in some things, Lex could be as much an absolutist as Clark.

But Dr. Savard's words had rung true in many ways. The potential for evil was in all people. But the only way that evil was discernible was because of the existence of good. Therefore goodness lived in everyone, too. Maybe some people indulged in one more than the other, or even one almost exclusively, but indulgence was a choice.

She had a feeling that the time for Lex to choose, not good or evil, but whether to believe in his equal potential for both, was fast approaching. With his staggering intellect, steely determination, and near limitless resources, she could only hope, for all of their sakes, that he chose wisely.

For what felt like the millionth time that night she'd wondered why the world just couldn't be black and white.

Although he gave no indication of noticing, Lex couldn't help but be aware of Chloe's scrutiny. The night had given both of them a great deal of information of all kinds. Savard had had a lot to say, and not just about Vilhelmsdotter.

He was curious to see if Chloe actually had the good sense to relate any of the man's words to her life. As with any forceful personalities sharing the same space, they'd often clashed. But that didn't mean that he disliked her. Quite the contrary. Lex regarded her with something that he rarely afforded the women in his life – a healthy does of respect.

Chloe managed a balance that few people of his acquaintance seldom attained; a blending of warrior and nurturer that struck a cord with nearly everyone she met. For God's sake, the girl had even extended sanctuary to her rival for Clark's affections. And it was that part of her that concerned him.

Tenderness was all well and good, but in the situations into which Chloe hurled herself on a regular basis, that particular emotional mindset could be a fatal weakness. Her downfall would never be the circumstances themselves, but her tendency to offer trust to people not worthy of such a gift. People like him.

Maybe the doctor's words would penetrate and she'd finally begin to see that in every good person was a seed of malevolence simply waiting for the chance to bloom. Self-preservation was man's most basic instinct and it was that intrinsic selfishness that was a person's natural state that would, in the end, govern the truly critical moments of one's life.

This need of Chloe's to assume that people would consistently work against their nature troubled him. She'd chosen the wrong career, the wrong home, and definitely the wrong people with whom to associate to be able to survive that kind of naiveté.

Not for the first time, Lex wished that heroes and villains were compelled to adhere to the fanciful black and white chapeaued dress code.

"You know," Chloe muttered as weariness settled upon her, "no matter what Dr. Savard says, it's hard to find the humanity in Hitler."

"Maybe," Lex replied, feeling the tiredness invade him, also, "he was warning you to unearth the malice in Ghandi."

Silence descended once more until Chloe had finally had enough of philosophical introspection.

"Moral ambiguity sucks."

Lex chuckled at the shared sentiment.

"Welcome to my world."

******TBC... **


	3. Part Three

**Chapter Seven**

Chloe watched Lex carefully. From her table in the corner of the Talon she had a perfect view of the majority of the establishment while remaining relatively unnoticeable herself. For an avid people watcher and general snoop it was the ideal position and,when the coffee house had become her hang out of choice years ago she'd spent months trying different tables before settling on the one at which she was seated.

Not that it was doing her much good as Lex's face betrayed nothing. In fact, he'd only glanced up once as Clark had come in and made a beeline for Lana who was at the counter talking to Mrs. Abernathy about eternal struggle between gardener and gopher. As if neither of them had ever held a significant place in his life, Lex simply smirked slightly and returned to the paperwork in front of him.

And Chloe had to admit that, even with Lex's iron emotional control she hadn't expected this…nothing. While it was true that Lana had told her, over and over, how Lex had unceremoniously dumped her, she had still reserved judgment until she had a chance to see them interact. Only she had a feeling that this was as close as they were going to come for quite some time, and honestly, that said more than if they'd all decided to have their coffee together.

Lex had been using Lana.

The realization should have been infuriating, but instead Chloe felt something almost akin to relief. Not that she wanted her friend to be harmed in any way. Despite their differences, and sometimes because of them, she loved Lana like a sister. And so she knew that she should be fuming at Lex's callous use of her as a pawn in his ongoing hostilities with Clark. But she wasn't, and she was pretty sure that she knew why.

Lana, no matter how victimized she was currently acting, didn't enter into that particular relationship unaware. No, she'd been warned, repeatedly, that Lex's motivations were rarely what they appeared. But she had been too wrapped up in her self-appointed role as Helen of Troy to see that, for at least one person in their odd little world, a hopeless love of all things Lang might not be a motivating factor.

But God forbid Lana actually took something out of the situation; perhaps alter her view of the world to encompass just the mere wisp of the idea that maybe her external locus of control could be modified in a slightly inward direction so that she wasn't constantly at the imagined mercy of others.

And after the way that Chloe had been shot down when she'd tried to warn Lana that Lex might be slightly more complex than she believed, a part of her just wanted to seize, not every opportunity, but certainly a number of them, to say 'told you so, told you so'.

Ordinarily that thought would generate at least a modicum of shame, but that fact was that she and Lana had spent a good portion of the morning having that very same argument but with a complete reversal of roles; and her near Herculean effort to restrain the taunting yet apropos phrase from escaping her lips made Chloe so proud that she chose to overlook her pettiness.

The other basis for her lack of outrage was the fact that Lex and Lana were, well…oogy. Not an inordinately erudite description, but strangely apt. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with either Lex or Lana when they were just that – Lex _or_ Lana. But when they became Lex _and_ Lana it was just disturbing. In fact it was downright creepy in much the same way as those nature shows in which a deadly snake mesmerizes a poor, vulnerable rodent and makes a quick meal of the creature before the fury little guy even knows what's happening.

Not that Lana was entirely defenseless. Lana was a bright and caring women; she just wasn't multi-layered. She practically oozed sincerity but, grounded in her customary obliviousness, it often missed its mark. She almost always meant well, she just never seemed to comprehend that her idea of well and everyone else's were not necessarily identical. She was like Martha Kent without the insight.

Of course, being simple didn't mean that she was without surprises. Chloe would have thought that, after such a public rejection, Lana's first priority would be to reinforce her sense of worth with the devotion of another man; most likely Clark. But, while the two of them had been spending more time together and regaining lost ground, Lana had insisted that they do so on a purely friendship basis.

In true Clark fashion, her friend was bewildered by Lana's choice. He seemed to be honestly laboring under the assumption that Lex had been the main obstacle to their happiness. It was as if the secrets and the ping-pong like breakups between the two of them had never occurred. And it wasn't that he was being purposefully blind; no, he was as earnest as the day was long. Now that Chloe gave it some thought, Clark was a lot like Martha Kent without the insight, too.

It was part of what classified he and Lana a match made in Heaven…although, granted that was probably a fairly slow day in paradise. And Chloe wished with all her heart that the two would find their way back together. It was a little odd after her years of pining for Clark to be longing for him to be with someone else, but was fast reaching the point of locking them in a closet if it would help with the matchmaking. She wanted to pretend, even for a moment, that it was because she was a wonderful person and amazing friend, but she was too honest for that. Oh, she was wonderful and amazing, but not overly altruistic in this matter. If the disapproving duo could go back to having eyes for nothing but each other she might stop having to listen to both outright and what she was sure her friends thought were subtle condemnations of her involvement with Lex.

And as he once again entered her thoughts, Chloe knew that she had to be careful not to make the same mistake that Lana had. It was a fine line to walk. She didn't want to delude herself into thinking that Lex would be above using her, or foster some sort of inflated belief in her ability to discern his true intentions. And yet Chloe found herself strangely reluctant to write of any possibility that Lex was being genuine in his appeal to her for help.

She'd always been more of a cynic in theory as opposed to practice, and so she found that the worst she could bring herself to believe about Lex, in the absence of any concrete evidence, was that his motives were probably a mixture of the two. If what she'd read in the files that Lex had given her was true, and both her research and everything she knew of the elder Luthor were supporting that hypothesis, then he was right in his belief that she was vastly suited to help him bring down his father, yet again. But Lex wouldn't be Lex if he didn't take advantage of this new opportunity to pump her for information on Clark.

And even if that knowledge was his main goal and ending his father's experiments was secondary, she felt somewhat compelled to go along. After all, she wasn't Lana. She had no doubts about Lex's obsession with Clark's secret, and awareness of what Lex wanted to hear gave her the advantage of knowing what not to say. So for as long as they could make their cautious partnership last, she would. Because more than answers or power or closure, Chloe got the distinct impression that what Lex Luthor needed was a friend.

Thinking of friends brought her thought back to hers. With any luck they'd remain so involved with each other that it wouldn't occur to them to come over and force her to fake sympathy as two of the most universally loved people she'd ever met struggled with their imaginary abandonment difficulties.

A wry smile tugged at her lips as she realized that she might be Martha Kent without the sincerity.

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

An hour later Chloe was glad that she'd kept up her covert surveillance of Lex's demeanor. If she hadn't she would have missed the only authentic flash of emotion she'd seen from him all day. And ironically enough, it had nothing to do with Lana.

In fact, Lana had already vacated the premises, and so could in no way be responsible for the pain she saw surface, ever so briefly, on Lex's face. No, that honor belonged to the one person with a permanent place under his skin – his father.

Lionel had entered minutes earlier and, although both Chloe and Lex knew that the man was eminently aware of all of the establishment's occupants, chose to act as if oblivious to his son's presence as he made his way over to Clark.

Though their conversation was brief, it was clearly full of kind words, and culminated in a pseudo-touching moment as Lionel clasped Clark's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. It was at that moment that Chloe turned, just in time to catch Lex's expression. Although it would have appeared calm and dispassionate to most observers, she had known him too long and through far too much adversity to miss the short and subtle muscle clenchings that were the equivalent of a Luthor howl of agony. In all her life she knew that she'd never forget Lex's face as he confessed to longing for his father's love and, no matter how brief its appearance, she recognized that look still.

While they weren't close enough for it to be tear-jerking, it certainly chipped at Chloe's heart a bit to watch what she knew to be Lex's feigned nonchalance as Lionel moved to share his table. Years of emotional dissociation stood him in good stead as he showed only the sardonic lift of one brow at what, given Lionel's blatant disapproving looks, was clearly an unpleasant lecture. It was a credit to his strength of will that Lex waited until the older man had finished speaking before calmly replacing the file he'd been reading in his briefcase, nodding towards Lionel, and leaving without dignifying the paternal show of mental cruelty with the response it deserved.

Of course, Chloe wasn't burdened by an overabundance of stoicism, and before Lionel had a chance to rise from the table, she had slid into Lex's abandoned seat.

"Chloe. What a pleasant surprise."

"I suggest you reserve judgment on that, Lionel."

The sad excuse for what she was sure was supposed to pass as a welcoming smile slid off Lionel's face, replaced by a speculative expression.

"Ah," he drawled as if he'd just found the elusive answer to a troubling riddle. "I wondered how much time it would take in Lex's company for us to revert back to the former, less pleasant stage of our relationship."

Leaning forward, Lionel reached out and covered one of Chloe's hands with his own.

"I know that our history has been difficult, to say the least; and I accept complete and utter responsibility for that sorry state of affairs. But I had hoped, given recent events, that we had reached a new level of understanding

Though your suspicions certainly have precedential merit, I remain optimistic that, in time, you'll recognize that I've turned over a new leaf."

Finding subtlety between them unnecessary, Chloe slid her hand from under his and leaned back in her chair putting both actual and symbolic distance between them. At that moment she didn't really give a damn about Lionel's motives, good or bad. What she did care about was the no longer sneaking suspicion that Lionel had just used Clark to try to manipulate Lex.

"Honestly, I find myself remarkably unconcerned by the state of your foliage. Leaves are effortlessly taken by the wind and carried from one place to the next. Frankly, the fact that your values change with such ease concerns me far more than whether you're good or bad on any given day. At least there's a kind of integrity in evil or, barring that, a certain sense of predictability."

Chloe watched with a detached fascination as his features realigned themselves, yet again, this time settling into a small smile of condescension.

"When it was brought to my attention that you had begun spending time with my son I was afraid that something like this might happen. Chloe, you know how dangerous Lex has been recently. You can't allow him manipulate you into turning your back on those around you with your best interests at heart."

The words placed such a strain on credulity that Chloe didn't even try to hold back her soft chuckles at the ludicrous thought that her welfare occupied a habitual space in his Machiavellian mind.

"So, do you introduce yourself as the pot when you meet the kettle or do you skip right to calling it black? Where do you get off ever, _ever_ accusing someone else of manipulating people? Especially Lex. All of his obsessive menace and controlling tendencies were learned at your knee; and you have the nerve to complain?

And if that hypocrisy wasn't enough now you have to go around showering Clark with the approval you constantly withhold from your son, and right in front of him no less. Try to bear in mind that whatever Lex has become you've done the lion's share of creating."

"You're right, Ms. Sullivan"

Chloe smirked at the title. It wasn't that she'd ever wanted to deal with the real Lionel Luthor again, but she preferred meeting the devil head on in lieu of letting him sneak up on her.

"Lex has most certainly been crafted by my hand. And he should thank me; I've made him a fighter."

She snorted at the rationalization.

"Yes. I'm sure Christina Aguilera would approve."

At the blank look on the older man's face, Chloe adjusted her barb.

"I'm sure King Fredrik I would approve."

Waiting for him to hurl more excuses her way she grumbled to herself, "That'll teach me to try to argue with a Lang and a Luthor in the same day."

Had she been paying attention, Chloe would have seen an almost genuine smile from Lionel. He realized that he'd missed whatever pop reference she'd been making; a fact that caused him no distress. But her ability to adapt pleased and impressed him. Lionel had always appreciated Chloe's versatility as much as he had her intelligence and passion.

"A very appropriate comparison. The soldier king may be reviled for beating his son to focus his thoughts on the military duties that were his birthright, but the results speak to the necessity of the methods. His son was hailed as Fredrik the Great for good reason – he single-handedly doubled the Prussian Empire during his rule.

But while I may demand the most of Lex to prepare him for the world, I rarely raised my hand to him."

"Well, don't you deserve a medal. Besides," she scoffed, "we both know there's more than one way to beat a kid. And are you telling me that Clark isn't meant for great things? Yet you beam at him like he's stock that you bought low and sold high."

"You're quite right. There is a marked difference in how I treat Lex and Clark.

As we are both quite aware, Ms. Sullivan, when Clark finally embraces his faces his future, that young man will become a hero. But Lex; Lex is destined to rule. Those are two radically different endeavors.

To be a champion of the populace one needs to have faith in an inherent goodness within them. But to lead a people one must always expect the worst from every corner.

Clark will save the world one person at a time by protecting them from the temporary dangers of everyday life. Lex, however, will preserve mankind as a whole by safeguarding it from the cataclysmic events that destroy societies.

You want to know why I can give Clark what I deny Lex? Because that is what the boy needs. But even if it wasn't, it wouldn't matter. I'm not responsible for preparing Clark for his place in this world. That job is being more than adequately seen to by his mother. It is, on the other hand, my duty to ensure that when Lex finally amasses the vast power he was clearly designed to command he can wield it well."

As Lionel continued his tone strengthened in with his conviction.

"Do you believe in fate, Ms. Sullivan? I admit that, although I strive for what some would term and excessive amount of control, I sometimes indulge the idea that a larger force may, indeed, be pulling our collective strings.

After all, think of the odds against Clark being placed directly in the path of the Kents; two of the small minority of people that would guide and guard the boy with no thoughts of what could be gained by controlling such an amazing child. It's hard to believe, when reflecting on all of the other equally possible outcomes, that there wasn't a greater influence at work.

So it might also be worth consideration that Lex was given into my care because I am uniquely suited to shape his potential; to mold him into the man he was meant to become."

Chloe sat silently for a moment measuring something in Lionel Luthor. Having finally reached a state of enlightenment, her mouth dropped slightly in surprise and her voice had an almost embarrassing squeaky quality to it when it finally emerged.

"Oh my God! You actually believe that load of crap, don't you?

You pompous, egotistical jerk. This isn't about steering Lex as a man, it's about utilizing him as a weapon. You're so caught up in being the pivotal figure in this equation, the power behind the throne, that you don't even see what you're doing."

Chloe forced her voice to lower so as not to focus more attention on them then they would already draw by virtue of their past connection.

"You're right. One day Clark will realize that normal is just a myth that Madison Avenue created to sell us Slimfast and Starbucks coffee. When he gets past the idea that his problems come from his differences and accepts that, like most guys his age, they come from being an emotional moron, he will become a champion of right.

But what you're doing, this using Clark to harden Lex, is escalating a faltered friendship into bitter warfare. And don't kid yourself that it's making Lex into a ruler. No; if Clark's the hero in this piece then you're casting your son as the villain. You're backing him into a corner, and he's been the target of your machinations for so long that he doesn't even see it coming.

You're so wrapped up in your own imagined greatness that you don't get that it's simply a matter of when, not if, Lex destroys you. Look at what's taken you a lifetime to build. And Lex has stripped you of it before he's thirty. Lex has _never_ lacked the capacity to ruin you, only the resources. He'll be more than you ever were; ever could be. But right now it's anyone's guess whether he'll exceed your evil, or direct his limitless potential towards more worthy pursuits. Your fucking with his mind isn't doing anything other than shoving him down a slippery slope, and we're all going to wind up paying for your arrogance in the end."

Chloe had to admit that those had pretty much been fighting words, and she could see that Lionel agreed with that assessment as all pretenses of concern and worry on behalf of the other was dropped.

"Ms. Sullivan, you might be better off devoting less effort to analyzing my abilities as a parent, and more energy towards mitigating the effects your time with my son is so clearing having on you.

I mean I can't imagine that Clark is pleased by this new development, and if I interpret your mumblings correctly, you and Ms. Lang are also at odds with one another."

A sickening smile crawled over his face and Chloe braced herself. She knew that look and nothing good had ever followed it's arrival

"Although, given the circumstances that's to be expected, wouldn't you agree? After all, you do seem to reserve you affections for those men who will always prefer the lovely Lana. Quite a clever strategy as it gives you a near limitless pool from which to choose. And really, since they can't all have her I'm sure that, eventually, one of them will settle for you."

And apparently the gloves were off. Chloe could almost see the instant that Lionel realized that there was, unlike with the Kents, little chance of winning her to his side. Worse, she knew that he was all too familiar with the damage that could be done when she and Lex worked together. No matter what his intentions were towards Martha and Clark, Chloe was certain that he was going to do what he could to disrupt this renewed partnership. And he wasn't wasting time. His shots were carefully aimed at the chinks in her armor he'd so ruthlessly exploited on previous occasions.

But Chloe knew something that Lionel didn't. She knew how to change. Not changing strategy, but to take an honest look at what you don't like in your life and change _yourself_, not everyone and everything around you.

Had there been a time when pain and rejection had made her an easy mark for Lionel's brand of connivances? Without a doubt. But things were different. _She_ was different. No matter how much animosity she bore towards the man, she'd had a hard sort of gratitude for their previous dealings. Watching the one you want watching someone else is hard on the ego. When you're thirteen it's devastating. And when you mix in meteor madness, corporate intrigues, and one very secretive alien you end up wishing you'd bought the extended warranty of your self-esteem. She'd spent years wondering what was wrong with her that Clark didn't want her. But the day that Lionel Luthor had been convicted, the minute she realized she was strong enough to help topple a veritable Goliath, she'd begun to realize just how amazing she actually was. Sure, her crush on Clark had continued, but after that point she stopped doubting her own worth started wondering what was wrong with Clark for not seeing it.

So if this was going to be the shape that Lionel's grand scheme took, well he was fresh out of luck. She was Chloe Sullivan – continuous savior of half of Smallville and the most powerful being alive. And Lionel Luthor was mentally deficient if he thought she either needed or wanted his approval; it was a backhanded compliment at best.

Not that she was stupid enough to tell him that. If he wanted to think that she was letting Lex use her because of some dysfunctional need to succeed where Lana failed that was a-okay with her; if he was preoccupied with that ludicrous scenario then she and Lex would be able to disguise the true nature of their collaboration that much longer. Was it worth sacrificing a little bit of her pride? Hell, yes. There was a surplus of pride in winning. Victory was its own vindication.

"Oh, please. Like I'm going to listen to relationship insults from the charismatic billionaire who has the widow card to play and still has to go through a son to get to the mother. What's next? Faking an affliction to get close to her? That's right; been there, done that, huh?"

Lionel, like Lex, hated failure and loathed being reminded of his follies. So Chloe wasn't surprised by the flare of anger the blazed to life in his eyes. What did shock her was that buried beneath the flames of his fury was a strange kind of pride that would have seemed out of place in anyone but the man across from her. She knew that when she'd worked for him Lionel had seen himself as a mentor, hoping to coax the seeds of her anger into a Luthor-like ruthlessness. And to a certain extent he had. But unlike his limitless capacity for cruelty, hers was a skill, not a character defect. She knew that he thought his callousness made him strong; and it might have. But the fact that it was an addiction made the need rule him instead of the other way round. It was ironic that Lionel could unerringly find the weakness in others but never in himself. Chloe knew that she was lucky. She'd escaped the compulsion to make others small to feel like a giant, learning to be her biggest critic _and_ her biggest fan.

"If what you say is true and I haven't mended even the least of my wicked ways, don't you think that you might be treading on dangerous ground?"

"No, Lionel; what I _think_ is that you're going to leave Lex and I alone, both as individuals and as a pair. What I _think_ is that you're going to stop raising the stakes in this battle between Lex and Clark. And what I _know_ is that from now on, if you want to fawn all over Clark you'll do it where your son won't have to put up with it."

Lionel raised a brow in response to the litany of demands.

"Do I sense an 'or else' in that diatribe?"

"Very astute." She leaned in closer and her eyes pinned his with their searing sincerity. "If this continues you'll leave me no choice but to go to the Kents with evidence that you were involved in Jonathan's death by choice."

"An interesting plan. Unfortunately for you that's not at all what happened so proof of such an act would be nonexistent."

Chloe found it laughable that Lionel, of all people, thought that the truth would protect him.

"I didn't say the evidence would be true, Lionel. But who do you suppose the Kents will believe?"

Taking advantage of his moment of shock, Chloe stood to leave. But as she passed by his chair she leaned down to whisper in his ear.

"Just consider me an instrument of karma."

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

Lex looked up from his desk as Chloe blew into the room. He hadn't been expecting her, but as usual these days, she wasn't an unpleasant surprise.

In a way he had to admit that that fact bothered him. While he wasn't even remotely moved to give up his plans, he knew from experience that it wasn't wise to overly attach one's self to those things in life which, no matter how engaging, were, by necessity, temporary.

Still, it'd be a waste not to enjoy her company for however long this lasted. And it was the least he owed mangled psyche after forcing himself to sit and watch the touching, familial-like display between his father and his former best-friend.

"Chloe. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Sliding into one of the large chairs in front of his desk, Chloe shot Lex a bright smile. Since their little project began they'd been getting along much better. She had decided to let some of their rough water pass under her bridge and, apparently, Lex had decided to meet her half way by not availing himself of _every_ opportunity to prove himself an asshole. All in all she felt it was a pretty good start.

Reaching into her bag, Chloe withdrew a thick stack of folders and tossed them towards Lex. Delving back into her tote she pulled out another pile for herself.

"It's research time, Lex. And you're delusional if you think that I'm going to do all of the unexciting work myself and let you just muscle in on the fun stuff. Don't think that I didn't notice you sneaking in some bad cop with Dr. Savard."

Apparently, in the two weeks since they'd met with the doctor, Chloe had been busy. So had Lex, but he suspected it was with a different goal in mind.

He'd been shocked and somewhat irritated when what he'd thought had been an encouraging, but ultimately, dead end had turned up with a direct link to Vilhelmsdotter. And, although he didn't like to be caught off guard, he knew better then to fire exemplary employees for unforeseeable events. While Chloe's investigative technique had been superb, it was simply a matter of chance that had them arriving on the heels of the doctor's unpredictable visit to his oldest friend. It had been a slight cause for concern, but didn't disrupt his plans, and experience had taught him that it was never good business to take disappointment out on valuable member's of one's staff.

So Lex had simply sent his men back out to recover all the ground they'd been over so that all traces of Vilhelmsdotter would be eradicated except those that he specifically wanted Chloe to find. He had every confidence that, in conjunction with the fact that she seemed open to sharing her research, his new precautions would keep Chloe squarely on the path he'd set her.

"You seem far too enthusiastic about hours of hunting for needles in what appears to be quite a sizable haystack. Which leads me to believe that you've either had a day of such unrelenting joy that it is carrying itself over to the daunting task at hand, or, like me, you've had a day of such unending misery that even this seems like a step up."

She knew that she'd have to tell him that she'd exchanged words with his father. Things got around far too quickly in this town and, given her history with Lionel, this was sure to be fodder for the rumor mill. Besides, even if Lex believed her explanations, if she wasn't the one to tell him of the confrontation a small…not so small…fricking huge part of him would sound the paranoia bell and everything she did from that day forward would bear the taint of his suspicions.

Still, it was probably best to ease into the subject.

"Well, I started out the day with a lovely fight with Lana."

Even though he hadn't appeared upset by her presence with Clark at The Talon, Chloe still carefully watched his face. It, unsurprisingly, still betrayed nothing.

"Dare I even guess?"

"Not if you're going to bother guessing anything other than you, what an evil bastard you are, and how you're genetically incapable of commitment."

"So I take it the fight was about me."

"You wish," Chloe snorted. "The fight was about you in as much as you hurt Lana, your immoral tendencies because they sullied her romantic notions of bring you over to the light side of the force, and your lack of relationship follow through because, God forbid, we have a conversation that doesn't involve some kind of homage to abandonment issues."

"So, did you at least leave her in one piece?" Lex asked, knowing that words were Chloe's weapons of choice.

"Of course I did." She sighed and leaned back into the support of the chair. "Sure, it was kind of hypocritical of her to give me the talk that she was outraged that I gave her, but that's just Lana. She's my friend and I can take the bad with the good."

Lex once again felt that flare of envy for the people, undeserving in his opinion, who enjoyed such unwavering loyalty without any understanding of its value.

"So we yelled for a few minutes and then I let her stomp off to run with Clark with her concerns and ignore me for a few days. I'm not worried. With a a little time to think about it she'll come to the conclusion that I'm simply an innocent pawn who had no chance against you if even she, with all of her empathic tendencies, couldn't see the truth about you. Then she'll be nice to me again, although she'll probably be twice as pissed off at you. But hey, she's not talking to you anyway, so it's win-win. Well, it's more like win-draw, but as long as I'm the one with the win I'm happy."

Her satisfied smile drew forth a small grin of his own. Chloe was in a playful mood and Lex found it harmless, and therefore hard to resist.

"So you're saying that the way you handled the problem was to make it all my fault?"

"Nooo," she drew out the word as if speaking to a child. "You made it all your fault. You used Lana and then let your pride keep you from tricking her into dumping you and playing the jilted lover."

Lex wasn't sure whether he should be impressed by her accuracy or insulted that she believed that about him regardless of the truth of her assertions.

"And you honestly think so little of me?"

"Oh please," she scoffed at his affected air of injury. "My conclusions have little to do with you and everything to do with Lana. Lord knows the girl is one of my best friends, but she's needy like I'm nosy and you're devious. Your relationship was too new for you to have sufficiently proved your undying devotion, and she hadn't lined up anyone to take your place. You can talk from now until the cows come home – which is probably about 4:30, but you're not going to ever convince me that Lana was even remotely on board with the break up."

"Don't you think that maybe Lana is slightly exaggerating? Why, after pursuing her, would I want to discard her as callously as you seem to think?"

Chloe gave a huff that did the double duty of conveying her exasperation and blowing some loose hair from her eyes.

"How should I know? To hurt Clark? Because you'd already proved that you could have her? It was Tuesday? I'm careful not to study your motives too carefully for fear of actually understanding you."

Her smile took any sting out of her words, and he could hardly be angry by, what he was realistic enough to admit, was sound judgment on her part. But as her watched, her smile dimmed, and Lex was overcome with a sense of trepidation.

"I guess it was just a day for fighting, because that wasn't actually the only one I had."

Suddenly the trepidation became a concrete dread as he realized that the cause of his bad day might have very well have also been the cause of hers.

"I'll give you a million dollars if you tell me that it was with anyone except my father."

"Do I still get the money if I lie?"

Lex took a deep breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose in a weary motion. This wasn't good. Confrontations between his maniacal father and the impulsive blonde didn't bode well for either her safety or his plan.

"Chloe, what were you thinking? You know how dangerous he can be. And with all we've learned in the past month you're either being incredibly stupid or unbelievably naïve if you think that you can act out against him with impunity."

Chloe knew he wouldn't be happy. But name calling? That was a little unexpected. And kind of sweet in an insultingly protective fashion.

"I say we go with unbelievably naïve as it's the choice that's guaranteed to make me least likely to kick your ass.

As for your father, I think it went pretty well…in a humiliating sort of way. Now, instead of thinking that you and I are collaborating on some secret project he thinks that I'm making meals of Lana's leftovers."

A pretty pout appeared as feigned outrage colored her voice.

"And why is everyone so sure that I never had Clark? We spent practically all of our time together for almost a decade. Hasn't anyone ever heard of friends with benefits?"

His look of disbelief was hardly complimentary, but Chloe comforted herself with the fact that at least she'd defused his anger.

"Not that we were. But I hardly think that it's completely out of the realm of possibility."

Lex wasn't quite sure why he was so relieved to hear the assurance, but put it down to the fact that, if people were going to assume that he was involved with Chloe, he hardly wanted to be thought of as chasing Clark's leavings anymore than Chloe wanted to be thought of as following after Lana's.

But since the subject had been broached, Lex thought that it would be the perfect time to address some of the comments he'd made about her romantic aptitude in the past.

"Of course it's not. Chloe, while I was dating Lana; some of the things I said - "

"Yeah, yeah, Lex. I get the difference between genuine animosity and expediency."

It sounded as if she was letting him off the hook, but Lex wasn't quite sure it was in a good way, so he continued with the original plan.

"I just - "

But Chloe wasn't going along for with the program.

"You were just mad because you thought I was butting in where I didn't belong and you said a number of offensive things. I would think it was less that you meant them and more that you thought it was the easiest way to get me to go away. Hello," she waved her hands at him, "have you even met me? Like a few snide remarks would get rid of me for any length of time.

Of course. And I can see where this is upsetting to you because that reaction is usually restricted to, oh well…everybody. And what about all of the awful things I said about you that day?"

Lex went back over that confrontation in his mind trying to remember any truly terrible words that she might have thrown at him.

"I don't remember anything horribly scarring from you on that occasion."

"Of course not." Chloe rolled her eyes. "I was too pissed off to keep talking to you. But Lois certainly got an earful.

By the way, if you're ever reading the Inquisitor and see a Lois Lane exclusive about your torrid love affair with old man Gibbons, than you have no one but yourself to blame."

Not the most salient point, and yet he felt compelled to ask.

"Old man Gibbons? The man with the imaginary heard of cows?"

"Invisible. He says they're invisible; and in this town, who knows? What can I say; you had amazingly poor taste in the lies I was telling Lois. But you had been a monumental jerk, and at least I didn't tell her it was the make believe bovine that you were cavorting with."

With a slight inclination of his head and a small smirk Lex acknowledged her dubious act of mercy.

"I live in eternal gratitude for your restraint. And I accept unqualified responsibility for any and all repercussions of my thoughtless words. However, I still have one question."

Frankly, she thought that they should have let the subject drop while they were ahead. Chloe knew that Lex had been about to apologize, even though she'd stopped him. The thought being what counts and all, it was good enough for her And Lex didn't actually have to verbalize any contrition; which probably prevented his head from exploding. But if it got them past this then Chloe was game.

"Shoot."

"Why were you arguing with my father to begin with?"

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

Chloe was nothing if not direct, so as her eyes slid away from his he had his answer. She'd been in The Talon when he had, and she couldn't possibly have missed both the scenes between Lionel and Clark and Lionel and himself. He stiffened at the thought of her thinking him so weak and helpless that she had to fight his battles with his father and then rush over here to hold his hand.

"I don't want your pity, Chloe."

He practically spat the words at her, and a normal person would have had the sense to look embarrassed, make their excuses and go. But no one had ever accused Chloe Sullivan of being normal.

"Well that's just too bad, Lex. Pity isn't something you give, it's something you feel. And leaving here won't make me pity you any less, it will just make me pity you from a different location and deprive you of my glorious company. So suck it up, Luthor, or I'll just start feeling sorry for you you at odd times when you least expect it. It will be random attacks of pity!"

It was most likely the lamest threat she had ever made; but as the anger dimmed and a odd sort of confusion at what she assumed was her failure to pacify his wounded pride crept into his eyes, Chloe took advantage of his momentary silence.

"Seriously, do I feel bad for you? Of course I do. I've watched your dad jerk you around for years and then he just turns around and plays the doting parent for Clark. It's disgusting, and damn right I think the whole situation is a sad state of affairs.

But Lex, that isn't because you're pathetic. It's because I'm human."

Lex thought carefully about both Chloe's words and the emotions behind them. He hated pity. He always had; and after the meteor shower he'd been exposed to enough of it to last a lifetime. Pity had always been something that someone in power gave to someone weaker, less able or fortunate then they were. Pity was a sign of helplessness and vulnerability.

But what Chloe was talking about, it seemed more like commiseration than pity. It struck a chord of understanding; of one person who has known pain seeing another person currently suffering and offering a little kindness. The tough love way that she approached the matter suggested that she didn't see him as an inferior to save, but as an equal to comfort. It wasn't the position of power he preferred to be accorded, but it was by no means an effort, conscious or otherwise, to humiliate or demean him.

Lex wasn't quite sure of what to make of the unfamiliar feelings her words brought forth, and, as with any strong emotion, he needed time alone to study it, calculate its value, and learn how to overcome it. Sadly he was unable to devise a way to either escape or neutralize the tension in the room.

Fortunately, Chloe seemed to sense his rising panic and intervened. An act of compassion he gladly accepted.

"Just don't imagine that I feel bad enough to offer pity sex."

A half smile accompanied a mock sigh.

"My life – a never ending series of tragedies and the disappointments just keep coming."

"But you don't."

Ignoring her snicker, Lex picked up the top file and began leafing through it's contents.

"I don't suppose there's any way I could change your mind? Tell you about the time I was eight and my dad ran over my dog? And with a limousine that's quite a lengthy process."

"No way. I know where Lex junior has been lately and until the top three layers of your skin wear off I'm not even sure I want to shake your hand.

Besides, you never had a dog. Now shut up and read your files. I made sure you got all the boring ones."

His smile grew as Lex began to peruse the papers in earnest. He had no doubt that what she said was true; she had given him all the mind-numbing research. After all, it wouldn't be the first time.

Back when they had been trying to get there hands on everything they could about Lionel it had been a game between them to hand the most tedious parts of the investigations off to each other. Lex firmly believed that, given their competitive natures, it had stepped up the productivity of each of their individual inquiries.

Although that time in his past had been stressful and agonizing in more ways then he cared to count, the sense of having someone fighting with him, someone on whom he could actually rely had been a novelty and something that he had treasured.

Although the decision to distance himself from Chloe may have, in part, been generated by a fear of developing a reliance on that feeling of affiliation, he knew that much of it centered on his growing sense of betrayal at Clark's continuing lies. His obsession slowly narrowed his focus, and when lines had been drawn Chloe had landed firmly on Clark's side.

But now Chloe was here; and although she wasn't crossing that line she was inching towards straddling it. So, while he wouldn't accustom himself to the support that she offered, Lex didn't see the harm in taking advantage of it while it served to further his plans.

His life had been largely devoid of meaningful connections. It had been why both Clark's friendship and duplicity had so profound an effect. And it was that void which allowed him to appreciate what a remarkable friend Chloe truly was. She was loyal to the point of peril, brave to the point of dangerous, and her ability to see her own flaws seemed to give her a vast tolerance for the faults of those people she cared for. Which was probably quite helpful given the quality of her companions.

In business Lex had learned that the best way to succeed was to maximize all avenues of profit in every venture. The longer his association with Chloe went on the greater potential he saw in its continuation. Having a friend who was astute enough to recognize the truth before they gave counsel and steadfast enough to stick with you even after you ignored their advice was no small thing.

And anyone who spent an hour in the presence of the dynamic young reporter would be able to see that her success wasn't a matter of if but when. Fostering a fondness in someone poised to be an adversary was always helpful; and since he didn't foresee the day when Chloe refused to investigate LuthorCorp, it wasn't a bad idea to keep her within easy reach so as to lessen the chance of being caught unawares. There was a reason that keeping one's enemies close was the basis for a cliché.

Turning the pages without really reading them he began to mentally expand his current plan so that he could achieve the most return for his investment. Chloe was still his primary link to Clark. But in her own right she was a potential ally both personally and professionally. If he could construct a strategy to gain Clark's secret from her in a way that didn't leave her feeling used and angry, then, when everything was said and done, maybe…maybe he could keep her.

**TBC...**


End file.
